Unjust Peace
by ssserpensssotia
Summary: Having lost everything and being treated like a house elf seems to be the worst thing that can happen. That is until a very bored Dark Lord decides to play some games with you. AU/Post DH
1. Chapter 1

UNJUST PEACE

Hello, hello everybody!

Serpie is back from vacation and she has so much inspiration!

I know, I know I haven't updated Colors Of Life yet, but I promised I won't abandon it. It's just this plot bunny seems to be stuck in my stupid head, so I have to write it down.

To those who read Colors- I will reply to your reviews a little bit later when the inspiration for Colors returns.

Anyway, this story is AU starting from the scene in the Forbidden Forest.

Please pay attention that the story is rated M, as I never write anything without sex or violence.

This story is a present for Nerys, my partner-in-crime and a good friend! Enjoy it, darling!

Disclaimer- everything belongs to JKR, Serpie says sobbing while looking at her bank account.

And here we go!

**UNJUST PEACE.**

**An unjust peace is better than a just war**.

**Marcus Tullius Cicero**

**Chapter One.**

"Get up, Mudblood!" disgustingly sweet mocking voice stormed into the dreamland and whipped the happy dreams like an angry, unstoppable tornado.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione opened her bloodshot eyes and tried to get up from the small, dirty bed made of a small blanket that seemed to be at least two hundred years old and judging from the disgusting smell of rotten cloth, it had never seen a washing machine or never known the careful and hard-working hands of a house elf. The pillow consisted of two old socks with holes and an old towel that looked as if it had been used to clean toilets. However, it was the only source of heat in the cold cell that became her home over a year ago.

Wincing, Hermione got up from her 'luxurious' bed and tried to stand up. She could feel all her bones and muscles aching, begging for a break. The cold floor that was made of huge rocks and stones felt as bad as always, making the chills run through her body.

Slowly moving on the rocky surface so that her bare feet would not get damaged again, Hermione Granger went over to the loo that consisted of a bucket that resembled a small can.

The disgusting smell that came form the bucket was ever existent but it still made Hermione want to vomit every time she was near it. Still, even after a year she had spent in this awful prison, Hermione could not get used to it.

Walking past another small bed that was now empty, Hermione tried to not to think of the girl who used to be her cell-mate before she was taken away yesterday. She could still remember the panic she saw in those blue eyes of Amanda when some unknown Death Eaters were dragging her away. God only knew how many prisoners were kept in the building, but judging from the number of floors and cells, it was more than enough.

Splashing her face with some dirty water from another small can where several bugs and ants swam, Hermione heard another yell from behind the metallic door that separated her from the outer world.

"I said get up, you stupid muggle bastard! I am not going to wait any longer, you filth!"

Oh Gosh, how she hated that voice! The voice that belonged to the most psychotic bitch she had ever met- Bellatrix Lestrange.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione got closer to the door and knocked.

Since Bellatrix decided that walking into the dirty cell where a dirty mudblood 'lived' was not something a pureblood madam should do, it was always Hermione that had to knock to let Bellatrix know she was ready.

Hermione didn't really want to annoy the crazy witch since the last Cruciatus she received from her wand was more than unpleasant and the cuts and bruises she received from Dolohov were still visible on her ghostly white skin.

An angry and disgusted face of Bellatrix when she looked at Hermione was the usual greeting Hermione got every morning.

"Crucio," Bellatrix screamed with a mad glint in her eyes and a sadistic smile on her face.

Again. Even though Hermione was already used to the favorite curse of all the Death Eaters, it still hurt like hell.

Trashing like a madman in agony, scratching the cold stone floor with the remains of her nails and wailing like a crazy animal, Hermione tried her best not to lose conscious, as for she knew exactly what would happen if she did.

After a few minutes the curse was lifted and Hermione tried to breath without coughing blood.

"Get up and move! You have a whole floor to clean today, you filth," Bellatrix said while kicking Hermione with an expensive pointed shoe.

'I have to get up, I must. I must survive. I must,' Hermione repeated like a pray while getting up with a lot of effort.

A whole floor with many cells awaited her today.

XXX

Kicking a young female, a dead female to be accurate, from his bed, he got up and walked towards the huge windows.

Wincing at the bright light that illuminated the room, he looked outside with a bored expression on his face.

Everything remained the same, everything went well in his world- the Ministry of Magic was under his complete control, his Death Eaters were controlling the population, Dumbledore was dead long ago, Hogwarts was now under his control and finally- Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived, lived no more. His rotten corpse lay perfectly still in one of the trophy rooms and when the mood was right, he would go and kick the body of his former enemy all the while laughing.

If to be honest, and he was always honest with himself, he was going nuts.

He had to admit that he was a bit unstable, but he was the only one who could say it out loud, and to himself only. The last person who tried to vocalize the concerns for the mental state of his mind received an hour long portion of Crucio and then was given to the werewolves.

He had to do something.

Walking to his mahogany desk, he kicked the corpse of his latest toy and seated himself with a heavy sigh.

The only question on his mind was what to do?

Stroking his pet's scaly head, he began counting his options.

Torture somebody? No, he thought shaking his head. It was boring.

Kill somebody? No again. It was also boring.

Find a new fuck toy? No, thank you very much. They were all incapable idiots who knew nothing about pleasuring a man. Maybe tomorrow.

Invade another country? Hmm…possible, but which one? The whole Europe already belonged to him and he had absolutely no desire to go to Australia or the States, as it was too hot for his liking. Plus, his Death Eaters had already gotten into the head positions in the American and Australian Ministry of Magic.

Brew a potion? Snorting, he ran his fingers through his silky hair and smiled smugly. What potion did he need? He already got the one he wanted and for all others he had an army of Potion Masters. No, it was out of the question.

Should he read a book? He could, but he had already read the most interesting and important books.

Salazars' beard! What was he to do? He didn't really want to go and gloat over Potter's dead body for he had done it two hours ago anyway.

He had nothing to do.

Lord Voldemort was bored out of his mind.

XXX

Two more cells to go and then her work for today would be done, Hermione thought while scrubbing the dirt on the floor.

She had been a house elf for more than a year now. A whole year passed since Harry was killed and the Final Battle was lost. That maniac, Voldemort, won and the whole world turned upside down. There was no life for Muggleborns or Muggles, who were either slaughtered or enslaved. The pureblood society ruled and the others had to obey. Or die.

After Harry had been killed in the Forbidden Forest, the dark army took over with little effort.

She and Ron were captured and enslaved, working as house elves in the Azkaban Prison which was now the residence of Voldemort.

The sick bastard had complete control over the Magical and Muggle world and it really seemed that there was no way to stop the destruction. After the death of Harry and Dumbledore the magical population gave in and stopped all kinds of rebellion acts, preferring to stay alive and to live in an unjust peace.

Trying not to cry, Hermione remembered once again that she was now alone. Harry died in the Final Battle and Ron followed shortly.

It was her fault, Hermione thought while scrubbing the dirt away with more force than before.

If only she had complied, Rom would have been alive.

It was all her fault.

_Flashback_

"_Lick me now, you filthy animal!" Bellatrix demanded while pushing her bare pussy towards Hermione's face._

_After a week of their enslavement Hermione finally understood how crazy some people could be. Bellatrix used prisoners to satisfy her sexual needs, making slaves lick her, kiss her, or fuck her._

_Now, Bellatrix decided that it was Hermione's turn, so after a round of Cruciatus, Hermione was on her knees with Bella's pussy before her eyes and lips._

"_Lick me good, you bitch. Eat my pussy," Bellatrix moaned and lay down all the while keeping eye to eye contact with her husband who had his wand pointed at Hermione and his other hand stroking his cock._

_Preparing herself for what was about to happen, Hermione leaned closer to the smelly lips, fighting with disgust and bit as hard as she could._

_Wailing, Bellatrix tried to get over the shock and stop the blood flowing from her torn nether lips when Hermione managed to hit her with a fist, adding a bleeding nose to the collection._

_That was the last thing she remembered before everything turned black._

_A couple of hours later, she found out that Ron was killed._

_End Flashback_

XXX

"Suck harder, Bella," Voldemort hissed unhappily.

It seemed that nothing could satisfy him anymore and it was boring, Voldemort thought while yanking Bellatrix's hair and impaling her on his erect cock. Nothing made him happy and it was slowly driving him nuts.

He had to find a new source of entertainment and while fucking the hell out of Bella, he saw something in her memory that made his eyes sparkle with anticipation.

How could have he forgotten about her?

Turning Bella around so that he had access to her anus, Voldemort impaled her once more, causing her to scream in pain.

Who cares, he thought all the while pushing into the not-so-willing-body-anymore.

Having finished, Lord Voldemort walked over to the mirror and smiling like the crazy person he really was, Voldemort winked at his reflection and went to the bathroom to get ready.

He had a new toy to play with.

A/N Yeah…nice life Hermione has, doesn't she…LMAO


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer- Serpie doesn't own anything from JKR's world….sob

Huge thanks to Nerys, Ankoku Dezaia, Tiffany Kleinhans, missevilprincess, Cherry. I just love your reviews, darlings!

I tried to make the chapters longer, but for some reason, I can't. So, I'll try to post more often instead.

Missevilprincess- thanks for pointing out the typo! I always make them since I'm stupid. LOL

Anyway, I decided to add some humor, since I can't write without it. So, it will be Angst/Drama/Humor…LOL

_Italic -__'Serpie wants money'- thoughts._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Any man can make mistakes, but only an idiot persists in his error.****  
****Marcus Tullius Cicero**

Shivering form the cold, Hermione lay quietly in her not so comfortable bed, tracing weird patterns on the cold walls and from time to time playing with the spider that was her only company.

Her mind was still clear, untouched by the various tortures and pains, even though most of the prisoners have gone either mad or just broke down.

A year ago Hermione promised to herself that she would not break and she kept her word despite everything. Even after Ron died, Hermione did not break.

Moving her fingers along the small lines on the wall, Hermione thought for a second that perhaps it was for the better that Ron joined Harry and didn't have to go through that hell she was living in.

Just when Hermione was about to fall asleep, tired from the days' work, a door opened and a small child, no more than six years old was kicked in.

XXX

What a boring day, Lord Voldemort thought while combing his fine, shining hair in front of a huge mirror in his personal chambers.

It was a good idea to transform the former wizarding prison into his mansion, seeing that everybody, including Bellatrix, Lucius and other Death Eaters cringed every time they stepped into the building.

The potion made wonders, Voldemort thought looking over his perfect reflection. He had to agree that a certain degree of narcissism became ever existent. But really, after living thirteen years in a form of a ghost, without a proper body, and then spending several years looking like a spouse of a drunken snake and a stoned mummy, it felt so good to his perfect looks back.

No one would ever tell that he was older than seventy years old. Judging from his appearance, he was no more than thirty five.

Everything was perfect in his life, except that it didn't make him happy, satisfied anymore. He wanted, no, needed a challenge. And he had already found one.

Stepping into a huge store-room, Lord Voldemort walked over the shelf where several boxed labeled with different titles stood: 'Entertainment', 'Additional Pain', 'Forget me not' and finally, 'Big bad me'.

Lord Voldemort unhappily agreed with his inner thoughts that he could not last any longer without a proper challenge because looking at the label 'Big bad me', he really wanted to check himself into St. Mungo's.

Carefully opening the box, he withdrew a pair of blond, red, black and even green hairs and laid them out on to the table.

He really hoped that his Potion Masters had chosen some good candidates for his entertainment, and with a very nasty grin, Lord Voldemort put the blond hairs into the Polyjuice Potion.

XXX

Lucius Malfoy was having a very heated debate with his crazy sister-in-law when the main doors were blasted away.

Everybody in room, including some low ranked Death Eaters and the Inner Circle had their wands drawn out and aimed at the intruder.

When Lucius's eyes adapted to the smoke from the blast, he was more than shocked.

The intruder was weird to say the least. The Death Eaters started to laugh, pointing fingers at the girl.

A small, even tiny girl with long blond hair, braded with flowers and a shining butterfly clasp-pin, with the most angelic face one could meet, stood in the doorway.

Her pink princess-dress and small pearly shoes on small heels gave an impression that an angel had graced the Earth with its presence.

Laughing, Lucius looked into the beautiful sky-blue eyes of the girl when he felt his bones melt from fear. The angelic girl's sky-blue eyes had the oh-so-familiar mad glint in them, shining red form time to time.

'Merlin help me,' Lucius thought when he noticed the yew wand the girl was holding in her small chubby hand.

And when the angelic girl opened her sweet mouth, all the Death Eaters wished they were dead.

"Who touched my belongings?!"

XXX

"Imperio," the tine girl hissed menacingly, pointing a want at some unknown Death Eater.

"You will bring me to the cell where Hermione Granger is at, and then you'll come for me in four hours. After that you'll jump form the cliff," the girl continued twirling her yew wand hissing at the shocked Nagini at the same time.

The snake was already used to the mood swings of her Master and to the weird behavior, but never in her long life had Nagini seen her Master looking so…stupid with those butterflies and pink dress.

"Now, start walking towards the cell and take a book with you. Any book with colorful pictures and no violence," 'girl' Voldemort added when he saw that the Death Eater had taken a book 'Deathly Curses. The most painful ways to kill your enemy' from a book shelf.

XXX

As soon as a small girl was kicked into the cell, Hermione was by her side, trying to calm the angelic child.

"Hello, sweetie. I'm Hermione," she quietly said to the trembling child.

'_Hello, Hermione. I'm Lord Voldemort,_' the Dark Lord thought while saying a quiet pitiful "Hi".

"Don't be scared, baby," Hermione continued hugging the tiny form of the most powerful wizard in the last centuries.

'_I'm not scared. I'm disgusted. What a smell'_.

"Ok," the baby answered looking at Hermione with innocent blue eyes.

Hugging the child, Hermione thought that she saw a mad red glint in those pretty blue eyes, but quickly pushing that thought out of her mind, she tried to talk to the girl, to find out what had happened to her.

"What's your name, darling?" Hermione asked sweetly and was astonished to see the dumbfounded expression on child's face.

'_Damn, what's my name? Idiotic Death Eaters, all of them.' _He had to think fast and muttered the first thing that came to his mind.

"Avada," the child said to the shocked Hermione.

"O…alright," Granger added smiling at the girl. What a weird name, she thought.

"Do you know where your parents are, Avada?" trying to drift child's attention from the disgusting cell Hermione inquired softly.

'_Of course I know. My mother died in childbirth, the stupid witch she was, and my dear daddy dearest received a nice Avada Kedavra from me, alongside with my__ moronic filthy grandparents.'_

"No," Voldemort whispered and a lonely tear ran from the innocent blue eye towards the plump lips.

Poor baby, Hermione Granger thought while taking the child into her lap and rocking it slowly.

"I am going to make you feel better, sweetie," Hermione whispered hugging the child closer.

'_I am sure you will, mudblood. I am sure'._


	3. Chapter 3

"_I am going to make you feel better, sweetie," Hermione whispered hugging the child closer._

"_I am sure you will, mudblood. I am sure"._

What a strange thing this life is, thought Hermione looking down at the small pouting child that was cuddled in her arms. Feeling small chubby hands hold you for dear life, clinging to your dirty rags and seeing closed eyes that belonged to the angel looking girl, Hermione's mind flashed with the dreams she used to have before this nightmare happened. She could see herself dressed in nice, fresh summer cloth sitting on the green grass of the meadow near Burrow; she could hear Ron running after a small boy, no more than 5 years old, laughing and having fun; she could feel, as if it were real, small body of her daughter cuddled in her arms, sleeping peacefully in the loving care of her mother's embrace.

How everything had changed. Once again Hermione was reminded of the harsh reality of this disgusting world, where survival and some primal instincts made her fight back, made her want to do something, but not give up. Definitely not give up, as she was the last remaining part of the Golden Trio; after her there would be no one to cherish Harry, Ron, Professors and others from the light side.

Hermione was brought back to the present when the child looked up and smiled at her.

A cold chill ran down her spine. Probably the wind, she thought and smiled back.

xxxxxx

For the first time in his long and productive life, Lord Voldemort felt some resemblance of respect toward anyone other but himself. No, he didn't suddenly start respecting the mudblood, nor did he become a muggle-loving fool with lemon drops in his non-existent beard.

Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Lord in centuries, if not ever, he thought smugly, felt a small, tiny bit of respect towards female population, muggle or magical. With every passing second the feeling that somehow resembled some form of respect, as Lord Voldemort simply did not do "respect", grew stronger. And stronger.

"_Dumbledore's beard. It is worse than listening to Wormtail,"_ thought Voldemort, cringing at the pain in his toes.

He then decided than females were either masochists or he didn't know anything about life. Since second choice was not an option, he decided to stick to the first.

Those disgusting pearly shoes on those damn 3 centimeters heels were killing him! His toes hurt and his feet felt numb plus his butt started to itch because the damn dress had some moronic underskirt which was not only scratching his sensitive skin but also glittering! Mudblood be better worth it, he though and looked in Hermione's eyes.

Lord Voldemort was not in a mood. Someone had to suffer.

xxxxxxxx

"Tell me a story," the girl asked Hermione who was still holding her gently, sitting on the rotten cot.

"Emm..Sure, darling. What would you like to hear?" Hermione tried to remember what stories her parents used to read to her when she was a small child. Stories that would sooth the pain and stress the poor baby was feeling.

"I want a story! Pick one, now!" He should control himself better, Voldemort thought when he saw Hermione's eyes widen at the rude and commanding cold voice coming from a small child.

"I mean, pleeeease," he just did not say that. Did he really want to go through this charade just to torture the mudblood? Yesssss.

"Alright. Would you like to hear about Bambi, sweetie?" asked Hermione after some consideration. She loved the Bambi story, plus it somehow reminded her of Harry. Even though Harry's patronus was not a Bambi, they were close.

The same association popped up in Lord Voldemort's mind and he simply could not and would not listen to a story about Potter's patronus!

"No stags! Do you understand me? NO STAGS!" enraged, Lord Voldemort jumped from Hermione's lap and started pacing the floor.

"Emm, Avada, darling, I am sorry; I didn't know you didn't like stags. Cinderella maybe?" now really confused Hermione tried to sooth the child who was acting really weird. No wonder though, she thought, if the child spent time with Death Eaters and in isolation, one had to be…disturbed.

"No Cinderellas!" Reminded of Potter again.

"No King Arthurs!" Damn Potter with his Gryffindor sword.

"No Nobody's boy," he did not need to hear about his shitty childhood.

"Do you understand me?" roared the princess in the pink dress while angrily stomping her tiny foot onto the hard floor, making the already aching toes blow up in pain and straight into his head.

Silence followed.

Hermione has never seen anything like that. She did not understand how a child can behave like that. It wasn't the fact that the child was really weird from the beginning- **that** Hermione could understand. She felt weird herself and she was a grown up woman. Then there was this disturbing feeling in the pit of her stomach; this dangerous aura surrounding the child; the weird name; the mad red glint she thought she had imagined; the commanding voice; hate for stags and orphans…

With a very bad feeling Hermione looked at the well dressed child, which was odd as well, and felt her heart sink.

"_This cannot be happening, I am mad, I am simply mad," _she thought as she looked at the child from another perspective.

It was a whisper but in the silence of the cell they both could hear her.

"You".

"You know, Hermione Granger, you were told to have been one of the smartest witches of your age, however, I honesty fail to see you brain functioning beyond the level of a 2 year old. Of course I am **"**me"**; **you cannot express and reveal enough necessary information regarding your train of thought by simply stating "you". You are not as retarded as Potter was, are you?" the voice of the child started changing.

How she hated him. He and only he was the sole reason everyone she loved were dead. He was the one who turned her life upside down.

"Voldemort," spat Hermione looking at the girl with hate, disgust and, she had to admit, fear. He was beyond dangerous.

"You're no fun, Granger," the child drawled.

With horror she hadn't felt in ages, Hermione stared at the changing form of the child, growing taller and taller.

In seconds, Lord Voldemort replaced the girl.

"So, what about my story, are you ready to entertain me, mudblood ? Because I really want to play," the Dark Lord said looking at her with amused expression on his now fully restored face.

He looked not older than 30 years old and had a very handsome face with straight nose, high cheekbones and oddly fitting red eyes. With a naughty smirk firmly planted on cruel lips and shining red eyes glittering in the dim light of the cell Voldemort leaned closer to Hermione.

xxxxxxxxxx

Hermione thought she was dreaming. How long had she been here and not once had she heard from him. Luckily. Now, however, it seemed Voldemort decided to spend his precious time with her. Peachy.

"So, I have a preposition. We will play a game, just you and me. Every round will have its bonus or punishment. I am honestly bored and I thought that you, my precious piece of Golden Meat," Voldemort paused at the enraged expression on Hermione's face, smiled and continued, "would also like to play. It's not that you really have a choice anyway."

"What is it that you want? You destroyed everything, you got what you want. And you are now bored," through clenched teeth Hermione managed to push the words out of her mouth, stressing the word "bored". "The great Lord Voldemort is so bored that takes Polyjuice potion and turns into a small child so that he could hear stories and play games. Maybe we could build some castles in the sand as well?"

Instead of a nice round of Cruciatus that Hermione expected to receive the moment she spoke, she heard rich laughter.

"We could, I'll think about it. But now it is time for the rules to be set. You better listen carefully, mudblood, as they will determine whether you'll improve your...accommodation and life style in general plus you'll get to do something besides counting spiders, or…." Without skipping a beat, Voldemort went on.

"Every evening I will give you a riddle," he actually smiled at that word, "and the next day you'll provide me with an answer. The answer has to be correct and precise, usually only one word or number. In case you are correct, I will provide you with something to improve your lifestyle and if you also give the correct explanation for the reason why you decided the answer was right, you'll get an additional bonus. If , however, you are wrong, you will do some nasty work and I will make your lifestyle worse."

"And how is that possible? Will you take away my perfect toilet or maybe my king worthy bed?" Really, like he can worsen the accommodation. But knowing him…

"You'll see. I am full of surprises," came a smooth reply with an underlying chuckle.

He really must be bored out of his mind, Hermione thought, but then again, he was right, she didn't have a choice and he knew it very well. They had this fighting thing in common- she was a slave in the world where darkness ruled and still fought on to survive; he, on the other hand, spent 14 years without a body, lurking around in shadows and still he did not give up. Unfortunately.

"And to make it even more interesting, I will spice up the game by giving you an opportunity to do the same. That will be fun, won't it?" Voldemort was really enjoying himself. He felt a little bit better than usually. At least something new and fun.

"You can give me your own riddle to solve, on same conditions, but without the accommodation consequences, of course," the Dark Lord offered pleasantly.

At that Hermione actually smiled, imagining Death Eaters' faces were Voldemort to spend even one night in a cell with a bucket for a toilet or cleaning floors the muggle way.

"Funny," Voldemort growled getting the glimpse of her thoughts which reminded Hermione of one more rule to set.

"No mind reading and cheating," she couldn't believe she was negotiating riddle rules with the Dark Lord.

"All right, it wouldn't be fun anyway". Maybe.

"So, the first riddle is mine. Listen carefully; I will not repeat it twice. Understood?" The Dark Lord could not really believe that he was doing it and actually enjoying himself.

"I am not retarded, but I guess I understand that you are used to dealing with brainless creatures, so don't worry". Hermione really wanted to say "don't worry, be happy", but she was already pushing her luck. She still didn't understand why Voldemort hadn't punished her for talking to him like that. Maybe it was her lucky day.

The Dark Lord did not want to admit that it was refreshing to hear something other than "Yes, Mater", "Forgive me, Master" and all those nice things that were "a must" in his world. So, he would let her entertain him for a while and then punish for everything at once. Yes, that sounded just right.

"Be careful, mudblood, if you want to live a day longer," happily delivering the threat, Voldemort moved closer to Hermione and making sure he had her attention, he gave her the first riddle.

"Hogwarts Express is on its way to Hogwarts. On the train there are 25 first years, 20 second years from Ravenclaw, 20 second years from Hufflepuff, 20 second years from Gryffindor and 20 second years from Slytherin. Each other year has 5 students more than the previous one. The question is: How many students will there be in **each house **who will hear Dumbledore's welcoming speech at the end of the Sorting ceremony?"

"Tick tock," the Dark Lord said instead of good-bye opening the door and elegantly stepping out, leaving Hermione with wide eyes and opened mouth behind.

**A/N I am such a moron, I forgot how to add chapters and edit them, so, of course, I fucked up. DUh**

**ANYWAYS,...Hehehe...Bitches, I am baaack. REJOICE!**

**I am sorry I haven't replied to the reviews, as I had over 1985 unread emails in my gmail account, plus I kinda got busy in real life...But...we're together again, darlings! Let's get drunk!**

**YAY! I am such a retard...But it's fun to live...hehe...**

**ANYWAYS, can anyone guess the right answer to the riddle? Hehehe...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all, my darlings for the great reviews! I must admit that I was surprised to see that all of you got correct answers (you'll understand why when you read the chapter).**

**But guess what, no one will get the correct answer to the next riddle...Hehe...Nerys, you be quiet, you cheated.**

**A/N Well, I will cry, rant and whine, dammit. Because I am fucked. I am in shitty mood with severe panic attacks. I am getting divorced! FUCK ME! Serpie is getting divorced and she does NOT want that. So, Hermione will suffer because 26 year old Serpie cannot handle her real life. I need a damn "Imperio" now. I need "Crucio"… ARRRRRR….Real life sucks, people. So I will torture fanfiction.**

**Tell me all how amazing I am after you read this shit!…face-palm**

**Nerys beta-ed what was possible to beta, so the text could be readable. Also, as I sent parts of text to her and not the whole chapter, I may have fucked up somewhere when copy-pasting, as my mind is fuzzy at the moment. Blame me, not Nerys. She's awesome!**

**Ok, enough of frustrated rant. I am getting tired of myself. Duh…**

What the hell was that, Hermione thought, when the door behind the tall frame of the Dark Lord shut. She had insulted, ridiculed and mocked the Dark Lord: the one that was the ultimate power in this world. And yet, here she was, sitting on her rotten bed, shocked to the core, but all limbs attached and no "Crucio, Mudblood" heard. Why?

What was going on? What kind of riddle is this, and why the hell had she agreed to this game?

Truth to be told, she was more shocked with her own behavior, or better to say, her own acceptance of the reality, than the Dark Lord's offer. Sure, she had known that the fellow was heavily touched in the head, but come on … To play riddles with Harry Potter's mudblood?

At the thought of Harry, Hermione's heart clenched, and she shuddered, trying to push away the painful memories of Harry's defeat and his ultimate death.

She had to make herself busy with something - that was the way she had survived this whole year. Instead of thinking about what could have been or dreaming about her dear friends, Hermione would count the blocks on the dirty walls, clean the surface, or even count spiders in the back corner of the cell. Anything was better than memories.

And without knowing, Lord Voldemort had provided Hermione with additional, or better to say, a perfect way to escape her troubled mind. She would oppose him, and in the end, she would defeat him, even through the means of simple riddles.

Simple, my ass, Hermione thought, when she recalled the riddle Voldemort had given her.

It was almost midnight already and Hermione knew that the next day she would be cleaning the 4th and 5th floor, so she had to think fast: for Harry, for Ron, for everyone. Not only because she did want something good from Voldemort, it would certainly please her to see him give in, but also because she wanted to outsmart him, to show him that he was not the only one with brains.

Going back to the riddle…at that word, Hermione paused. She hated this word as it was very closely associated with the bastard. She preferred puzzle.

So, back to the puzzle. Hermione knew very well that it was not simply mathematics and just counting wouldn't help solving this puzzle. No, it was something else.

She could count the numbers, and then, she would have the answer. However…

Hermione made a mental list in her head that would help her to understand just how many right answers there were, as she had no doubt that this was the so called "test" puzzle where no difficult answer was to be given. This was the puzzle that would show Voldemort what she was really capable of.

Giving her best and collecting all the gathering thoughts, Hermione started counting the answers in order to select the correct one. Damn Voldemort had twisted the puzzle so there was no correct answer.

-Professor Dumbledore was dead, so there would be no one to listen to his speech during the welcoming feast.

-The puzzle itself was weird, even if you just counted - there should be more first years and second years, but in the puzzle, it was the other way.

-Since it was Voldemort and considering his hate towards Professor Dumbledore and Gryffindor in general, then only Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs would listen to the "stupid rambling" of the "mental" Headmaster.

- When was the Hogwarts Express going to Hogwarts? Voldemort didn't tell that it was the beginning of the year, so it may have been during the winter holidays, so there would be no Sorting Ceremony.

Groaning in frustration, Hermione Granger started to think that Voldemort decided to simply drive her crazy, so he wouldn't be alone in his "lala" land.

xxxxxx

Grinning in satisfaction, Lord Voldemort sent another wave of Crucio towards Bella. There really was no reason to do so, but since he was in such a good mood, he just had to share it with his loyal follower who screamed her satisfaction as loud as possible.

The Mudblood would surely give him the correct answer; he had no doubt about it. He was pretty sure that she was going to get it right, even though he himself did not know which of the answers was correct.

Listening to the wailing Bellatrix, Lord Voldemort smiled at his own great mind. Only he could make up a puzzle that had no right answer, but had many correct answers. Life was starting to get more interesting, he decided when Lucius Malfoy apparated into the main hall.

xxxxxxx

Lucius Malfoy was enjoying supper with his wonderful wife, sitting in the richly decorated dining room of Malfoy Manor. The world was at his Lord's feet, and Lucius Malfoy greatly enjoyed his position as the current Minister of Magic of Great Britain. Each country had its own Minister of Magic who, then, had to report to the Head Minister of Magic who was, of course, Lord Voldemort.

Even thought Lucius really enjoyed the power he had, manipulating and ordering people around when he saw fit, it was a very tiresome job. You never knew what might cross his Lord's mind. He was really good at being a Minister of Magic, however, with a "boss" like his, it was never clear whether you' d get a "Job well done" or "Please enjoy some Crucio" instead.

So, when his Dark Mark started itching, Lucius Malfoy was not a very happy man.

After apparating to the main hall of Slytherin Manor, as the Dark Lord had ordered to call the former Azkaban prison, Malfoy Senior shuddered like he always did when he entered the dreadful place. Knowing his Lord's sadistic side, Lucius had no doubt that everything was always done on purpose. The Dark Lord could have chosen any property, not only in England but anywhere he wished, but no, he just had to choose that damn Azkaban as the headquarters for living and gatherings.

Malfoy smiled as he remembered the faces of other Ministers of Magic when they had to report to the Dark Lord in Azkaban and be in the near proximity of the dreadful wand that was always and constantly twirling between the fingers of the Dark Lord. And, of course, there were the Dementors that flew everywhere, happily chewing on everybody's mood.

Lucius hoped that his Lord was in good mood today, in really good mood.

xxxxxx

Lord Voldemort did not really know what the hell he called Lucius for. He was forced to wait, and he really hated waiting. It bored him out of his mind.

I should amend the rules, he thought, and give the mudblood less time. Yes, that was a really good idea, he thought, as he looked at the bowing Malfoy. He wanted to know all there was to know about the Granger girl.

Xxxx

Slam!

What is it with the Slytherins and grand entrances, Hermione thought, looking at the towering Dark Lord.

"Evening, mudblood," disturbingly, even to himself, smiling Voldemort greeted Hermione who was sitting cross-legged on her wonderful bed.

How was she supposed to answer? Hello? Good evening, even if it wasn't? Or yo?

Instead, Hermione decided to just nod her head; he could think whatever he wanted of it.

She was so annoying, he thought, staring at the Mudblood who just nodded to him, as if he were some kind of a mere mortal. She will pay for that, he thought happily, adding one more point for punishment to his list. But he wanted the answer now, punishment could wait.

"And?"

"And, there are several answers with none of them being correct taking into account that you have not settled down the time and frame points," taking a deep breath, Hermione started to answer the question as annoyingly as possible, enjoying the mad glint in his eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore is dead, so no one will be there to listen to his speech anymore". Smart Mudblood.

"Why are there more second, third, fourth, fifth," at the counting his eye started to twitch, Hermione noted and happily continued, "sixth and seven year students than the first ones? That shouldn't be possible taking into account that students do not just appear from nowhere". He didn't think of that, but she didn't need to know it. Bitch.

"There was no Sorting ceremony; as maybe, Hogwarts Express was bringing the students back to school from Christmas holiday. It is a possibility as you have not, I repeat, have not specified the time and frame points". So what. He did not forget, he just didn't bother with small details.

"It may have been a long time ago when Professor Dumbledore was not a Headmaster yet, as, I repeat, you have no-," before Hermione could continue she was interrupted with his annoyed hissing.

"Yes, as I have not settled down the time and the frame points. Do not annoy me, Mudblood. Continue."

"Thank you," happy at being able to annoy him but angry at being interrupted, Hermione made a face that drove even Professor McGonagall mad and went on, as if the most dangerous wizard of all time hadn't just interrupted her. "As you haven't settled down the time and frame of the said ridicules riddle," at that Hermione glanced at the Dark Lord who was now really angry, "then the correct answer is: 'It depends'."

She really wanted to say "Fuck knows", but she never liked swearing, even thought this particular answer became Fred and George's favorite just before they died.

She was right, as he had guessed before. There simply was no answer, because it all depended on the time and frame of the riddle.

"All right, it seems that you do have some brains, Mudblood. I accept you answer; however, it is only partially correct. "Before Hermione decided to angrily interrupt and demand the explanation, the Dark Lord already had his wand out.

In a second's time, her cell was cleaned; her rotten cot was replaced with a nice but simple bed, and finally, she received a normal toilet.

She had won the first round, and the Dark Lord was actually keeping his word.

Slowly, the Dark Lord moved closer to Hermione, his dark green robes twirling around his feet like velvety fog, making him look even taller and more imposing if it was possible.

"You really want to play, don't you, Mudblood?" His creepy red eyes focused on Hermione's large ones.

Before she could answer, Lord Voldemort took her chin into his palm and sweetly smiled at her.

xxxxx

He was scary, creepy, and crazy, Hermione thought, while looking into his eyes. She was not afraid of Legilimency as there was nothing special to look for in her memories, because really, what was there to see? Her cleaning the floors of Azkaban? Counting spiders?

His eyes held her captive for longer than she wanted, and then, she was suddenly released.

"You are a funny being, Mudblood. You amuse me, however, at the same time, you really annoy me. I see that you are not afraid, and this game of ours," at that his white bony wand made a full circle around her head, "is nothing more than amusement to you".

"It shouldn't be like that, as I am the only one who gets to be amused. You are here to provide amusement. Seeing that no physical punishment will make you bend to me, I shall, once again, amend the rules, so you wouldn't take it too lightly. You will not give me a riddle this time, as you don't take the game seriously enough".

"If you do not get the answer correct to the next riddle," at that he glanced at her now widened eyes meaningfully, "you will be moved to the chambers next to mine. I hope you understand what it may mean?"

No, no, no…She really liked her cell. It was comfortable and nice and had a beautiful view…No, no, no!

"This riddle is serious and has a correct answer. If you get it wrong, we'll be seeing each other much more often than you'd like. If you are correct, you may request whatever you want and I shall provide it to you if it is a sensible request, of course. You may also ask three questions to which the answer will be either yes or no."

Hermione had a very bad feeling about this. She did not need a crystal ball to know that she was in deep, deep shit now. There was no way he would give her something she could provide a correct answer to. Dammit.

"And here we go," clapping his hands happily, the Dark Lord smiled, swayed back and forth a bit, and quickly, said the riddle.

_"Four windows: Two open, two reflecting._

_All four can be removed. Two as usual, two not._

_Two have been cleaned from inside, two from outside._

_All four were removed and put back in random order. Nothing changed._

_Two with three colors, two are not black and not white. All four are connected but not quite._

_What am I talking about?"_

'What the hell?' was all Hermione could think for a moment, but then, she needed think fast. "Is this a living thing?"

Good, Mudblood, good. "No".

Short and without emotions. He was giving her no clues whatsoever, arse. "Is it in this manor?"

Really good, Mudblood. No wonder you are the last one standing. "Yes".

Again, no emotion. "Have I seen it?"

He made the right choice. The Mudblood was worth his time. "Yesssss."

There we go, Hermione thought when some sort of emotion flickered in his eyes.

"Now, think". With that said, she was left alone again.

**A/N Now you will suffer, Hermione, because Serpie is deeeeeeply depressed. DUH!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N **This chapter was beta-ed by **Serpent-in-Red **behind **Nerys**' back, as this chapter is a gift to Nerys who beta-ed the last chapter of Colors.

Now **Serp **(not me, the other one), knows how it feels to beta Serpie's chapters…chop-chop…mad cackling…coughs…

I would like to apologize to Lord Voldemort for what will happen in this chapter before I am tortured to death (Serp agrees happily, as she beta-ed it. And Nerys, who wanted it)….We are all innocent, my Lord! Blink, blink..

Thank you all for reading the story and finding the time to review!

I replied to all your wonderful reviews individually, but for anonymous readers I have to reply here:

**Magentasouth**- Lolz..Nope, I won't make you wait. You were correct on the part of eyes being windows to the soul. You'll see the answer to the riddle and understand how close you have been to the correct answer. And thank you very much for the kind words. I try to distract myself by updating everything that is possible LOL

**Want to enjoy more**- Nerys, go take some pills and enjoy your gift.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 5.**

"Four windows: Two open, two reflecting," Hermione repeated for the twentieth time while pacing her cell.

Four windows, did he mean the Founders and the four Hogwarts Houses? Then what could "two are open and two reflecting" mean? If two are reflecting, then it meant that they were not open.

All four could be removed? No, definitely not the Founders and the Houses.

"Two have been cleaned from inside, two from outside. All four were removed and put back in random order. Nothing changed." What the hell? No, really. Now, Hermione was sure Voldemort was completely touched in the head. However, she had to give it to him that no matter how crazy the Dark Lord was, he had a brilliant mind. So did she, Hermione thought with even more determination to solve the puzzle.

"Two with three colors, two are not black and not white. All four are connected but not quite." What was he talking about?

Hermione tried to solve the puzzle for the last eight hours. She could not fall asleep even if she tried, since the riddle would pop up in her hyperactive mind.

_Damn you, Voldemort. Damn you to hell!_ Hermione Granger could not solve the puzzle and she was running out of time.

In her frustration, her eyes roamed around the cell, almost as if she were trying to find some clues from her surroundings. However, the gloomy atmosphere and the less-than-desirable surroundings only made her nostalgic—she missed those days when she was back at Hogwarts.

She remembered how she and her dear friends did their homework in the cozy common room in the top tower that belonged to the Gryffindor House. She could clearly see and even feel the peaceful and cheerful atmosphere while Harry, Ron and she sat behind a small round table doing their homework. Or, to be honest, it was Hermione doing all the work, and the boys were either just trying to copy it or joking around while doing nothing.

As Hermione sat on her now comfortable bed, she smiled a peaceful smile that was filled with pain as she remembered one particular evening long before the Final battle and the deaths of her dear friends.

_Hermione was writing her essay for the next Potions class, and she was concentrating hard as Professor Snape demanded a long and detailed review of one of their recent potions_—_potions that both Harry and Ron failed to make properly and received a zero._

"_That dungeon bat has gone completely mental," Ron whined as he tried to write at least something on his parchment._

"_Maybe he inhaled too many fumes," Harry added laughingly._

_With a disapproving stare, Hermione turned to her best friends and started her standard speech on how they should work harder and study more. And show respect towards a Hogwarts Professor._

"_You know that it was Malfoy who sabotaged our potion, Hermione. We did everything correctly," Harry argued back and before Hermione could respond, Ron interrupted._

"_Maybe we should just turn Malfoy into a ferret? I like him like that better. And Snape can fly"_—_at that Ron put his wrists near his shoulders, as if imitating wings, and wiggled them rapidly_—_" after the ferret"._

_Even Hermione could not hold back the laughter that escaped her at that show. With eyes filled with tear of laughter, Hermione looked at her other friend, Harry, who was laughing hysterically, his bright green eyes full of mirth only partially hidden behind his glasses that reflected the flames roaming in the fireplace at the center of the common room._

Cold shivers ran through Hermione's body, piercing her heart like a lightning.

"No, no, no," she whispered frantically, hoping that she was wrong.

Voldemort's cold voice ran through her ears, repeating the puzzle.

"_Four windows: Two open, two reflecting." _Eyes are believed to be the windows of one's soul.

_Two windows open_—two eyes.

_Two reflecting_—glasses.

"_All four can be removed. Two as usual, two not."_

_All four can be removed._ Hermione felt sick at the thought.

_Two as usual_—just take off the glasses.

_Two not_—Hermione felt like vomiting right away, but continued despite the disgust and horror that plagued her mind as her brain continued solving the puzzle on its own. Eyes can be removed as well, just not like glasses; they had to be removed forcefully.

"_Two have been cleaned from inside, two from outside."_

_Two have been cleaned from inside_—Hermione had no doubt it was not the glasses Voldemort was talking about, but real eyes.

_Two from outside_—the glasses.

"_All four were removed and put back in random order. Nothing changed."_

Hermione could not hold the vomit anymore and ran to the basket where she emptied all her stomach contents. She would not think of that line. NO.

"_Two with three colors, two are not black and not white. All four are connected but not quite."_

_Two with three colors_—Harry had green irises, black pupils and white eyeballs.

_Two are not black and not white_—Harry's glasses. They were transparent.

_All four are connected but not quite_—Harry wore his glasses to improve his vision. But he could always take them off.

And the answers. Hermione leaned on the bucket, and sobbing, she put it all together—Harry was dead, so Voldemort gave her a "No" to her question if it was a living thing.

Harry, or his body—at that thought, Hermione vomited again—was in the manor. She knew that from that bitch Bellatrix, even before Ron was killed.

And her last question plus the glint she had seen in Voldemort's eyes at his answer—she HAD seen it; she had seen the eyes, the glasses; she had seen her best friend. Hermione closed her eyes as tears leaked like waterfalls. Her heart was pull of pain and anger. That bastard gave her a riddle which had only one correct answer. An answer she would never provide him with. Never will she do that.

The answer was "Harry Potter."

A roar of anger and hate filled her cell as Hermione comprehended that Voldemort had done it on purpose; he was hitting the most painful places in her soul. That monster was trying to destroy her.

Her eyes flashed and she tried to find the perfect weapon to murder that half-blooded bastard. A vicious grin appeared on her face as her attention was caught by the bucket that was posing as a toilet. She immediately pulled off her pants and pushed as hard as she could. She tried really, really hard. Considering the little amount of food she got, her poop was too soft and smelly. So she pushed even harder, wanting to get in as much as possible, and she knew she only had a limited amount of time before that son of a bitch walked through that dungeon door. With a satisfied smile, she felt the last of what she got join the rest of its former "neighbors."

_Time for a nice, little shower, my Lord._

Xxxxx

As soon as he heard the roar, Lord Voldemort chuckled merrily, thinking of what a wonderful choice he had made when he picked his new toy. Even he, Lord Voldemort, had to admit it was a pretty difficult one, but she managed. Now, he had to see just how feisty his new toy would be.

He had already had her rooms prepared, as he guessed that he would not get the straight answer. Gryffindors and their moronic ideals, he thought while quietly and calmly walking towards the door.

The Dark Lord was already nearby, as it was time to visit his dear guest and see what she would do. If he was correct, she would not give him the answer, even though she did solve the puzzle.

_Good Mudblood_, he thought while opening the door.

Xxxxx

_Bad, disobedient Mudblood_, Lord Voldemort thought angrily, while using the cleaning charm to get rid of the contents of the bucket that met him straight in the face when he opened the damn door.

Hermione looked viciously happy when she heard quiet footsteps behind the door, already knowing who would bang the door open within a second. Grabbing the bucket that contained her vomit, piss and shit, Hermione threw forward the contents of the said bucket as the door opened with the expected bang.

Looking at Lord Voldemort, the ruler of the world, covered in shit, vomit and other disgusting things, Hermione laughed like a mad woman, imagining Ron and Harry joining her wherever their souls were. Even if she were to die because of that, it was still worth it.

Xxxx

The pain was awful; Voldemort's Cruciatus was much more powerful than Bellatrix's, Hermione thought while trying not to scream. The curse was lifted and Hermione was left lying on the floor.

"We are sooo smart and funny, aren't we, Mudblood?" Voldemort asked while making circles around Hermione's still shivering form.

"So, will I get the answer to my puzzle from you, or would you prefer to move closer to me?"

Hermione pursed her lips and only her angry eyes filled with hatred and a memory of Harry Potter looked straight at Voldemort's hovering form.

"Correct answer, but only if you say it out loud," the Dark Lord mocked her with an innocent, sweet tone of voice. "Are we going to say it out loud, Hermione?"

Gods, she hated that monster; she hated him so much that she would do anything just to stay away from his beautiful but, at the same time, disgusting form. Anything, but that. No way in hell would she tell him that "IT" was her dear Harry, who died trying to protect their world.

"All right then. It is time to move, sweetheart," Voldemort sang while moving his hands around as if showing her that this was the last time she would see** that **cell.

"You can carry the bucket," Hermione hissed at him from her position on the floor, "since you are already familiar with it. Closely."

_What a bitch_, Voldemort thought, amused. He wanted to be angry, pissed off, but only amusement and twisted glee invaded his mind. She was a worthy challenge, and he really needed something to improve his mental state. Better be amused than bored, he decided.

"Your moving will be done by the servants, darling. It will happen right after I walk out of that door. However, since you did get the answer right, even though you stubbornly refused to vocalize it, then I will give you a chance as I promised. You can give me a riddle and I will solve it. Think of what you want in case I do not get the answer correct," at that, Voldemort sneered, "and think carefully of what I may request back if I do get it right".

"And trust me, Hermione, I will get it right, as I have no moronic ideal like you do," he added before leaving the cell with door wide open.

Xxxx

Hermione had to admit that the room was kind of nice. It had a fireplace, a couch with a small round table before it, and a nice king-sized bed. The only minus, a huge one, was that her room was right next to **his. **The only good thing was that she had her own bathroom now with a huge bath, a shower, and finally, a normal toilet. She was already too used to crouching down and supporting her weight on her legs in order to relieve her needs that Hermione doubted she would get used to the usual toilet seat quickly.

Sitting on the soft bed, Hermione touched the fine material that covered the said bed. It was red, which she thought was odd, but maybe Voldemort liked red?

"Closet Gryffindor", she sniggered quietly, trying to think of a good puzzle to make Voldemort go insane.

Still touching the soft material of the red cover, she was struck with an idea.

_Oh, yes. He will pay for the last riddle. I will make sure of that_, Hermione thought with glee as the puzzle formed in her head.

Xxxx

Lord Voldemort came later in the evening, dressed in black pants and red shirt.

It suited his eyes, Hermione thought before smacking herself mentally for even thinking that. No matter how handsome he might be, he was a freak.

"Evening, my darling," a cool voice greeted Hermione as its owner moved to sit on the couch.

Lately, he started using all kinds of endearment when addressing Hermione. Both he and she knew it was just to annoy her.

"Evening," Hermione replied with a glint in her eyes that reminded Voldemort of himself.

"I gather you like the room?"

"It's perfect. Please give my congratulations to the decorator; he must be such a Gryffindor lover."

_Bitch_, he thought. She already must have guessed that he was the one who decided what colors were allowed and what were not.

"Your puzzle, Voldemort. Are you ready?" Hermione asked sweetly.

"What are your requests?" Voldemort replied while raising a perfect eyebrow.

"If you don't get it right, you will let Harry to be buried as a wizard, with a gravestone and a normal grave," before Voldemort could interrupt, Hermione added, " in Godric's Hollow near his parents".

"My, my … Aren't we aiming high? And what do I get in return if I do get it right? Will we go and gloat at the dead Potter for several hours while having tea with lemon drops?"

The Dark Lord was actually quite disturbed. His second favorite toy—Potter's body—was at risk. So, that meant he had to get something very good for that.

"Or, we will have passionate sex on the table, me taking you any way I want to?" For some reason, he wanted to have her. Forget about blood purity. He was a half-blood himself, but he wanted to fuck her, and not only her brains.

Hermione was speechless. Either Harry would be granted a final rest with respect, or she would be fucked by Voldemort.

She or Harry; that was her option now.

"You can fuck me any way you want to, only once, if you get the right answer. If you don't, then Harry would be given a funeral with respect and I will attend." She had made her decision. Harry deserved it after all he had done. She could survive one Dark Lord—he could take her anyway, so she was losing nothing.

"Deal," the Dark Lord smirked with glee. He would take the Mudblood willingly and not by force. How sweet, Potter's Mudblood under him. His amusement lasted until Hermione stood and came closer to him.

"I will tell you the riddle only once. There is only one correct answer. You can ask me three questions, same rules as before".

_What a bossy little thing_, Voldemort thought, still amused. It vanished though, as Hermione gave him the riddle.

"_She is red, he is close but not the same"._

"_Another day is not today, the red used to say"_

"_They fought, others fought and one side won"._

"_What happened to them?"_

Voldemort looked more than pensive for a moment, and then he turned his calculating gaze towards Hermione. Her mind was blank; he saw straight away that she would not give him a clue.

"Are they alive?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "No, but they live forever."

Voldemort was even more baffled now. What the hell?

"Was I born when this happened?"

Hermione smiled and simply nodded her head.

"Have I heard about it?"

_Now that is a difficult question_, Hermione thought. He may have, but at the same time, it was only a guess.

"I don't know for sure".

Dammit, he asked all the wrong questions.

"Since you obviously asked the questions I could not know the answer to, you may ask one more." She was a Gryffindor after all. Plus, she was sure he would not get the right answer. If he did, he would struggle with voicing it out loud as she had, no matter what he had stated before. It was so Muggle that Voldemort would have to admit that he was into Muggle "things" and it would be too hilarious if he had to say it out loud to Hermione. She would have her revenge.

Voldemort took a calming breath and asked the last question while moving towards the door. There he stopped and looked at Hermione.

"How many words are there in the correct answer? In total."

Hermione smiled a sweet smile and whispered a word.

"Four."

With an irritated glare shot in her way, he swirled out of the cell. The door slammed shut, and a smiling Hermione thought how happy and proud all her friends would be of her. Voldemort would never get it right.

_Take that_, she thought and jumped on the bed with scarlet coverings.

**A/N 2** : Nerys almost made me piss my pants with her answers to the new riddle. Please, people, do not think that the correct asnwer is " The Berlin Wall collapsed" or "They Turned to Muggles". LOLz...It's much more...awsome! Poor Voldie...sobs and runs away.


	6. Chapter 6

You can read the chapter because it was beta-ed by **Serpent in Red**, as my unbeta-ed chapters are hard to understand. They need chop-chop, delete-delete.

And here comes the usual Serpie-thing. **WARNING!**

For Mature audience only! Rating **M** is not because I don't know any other letters. It's for a reason, duh.

Anyways, please note that drugs are bad! Don't do drugs, people.

Now, regarding this chapter- the experience is spot on, so don't come saying it's a fake. When I was younger I tried some stuff, so I know what I am writing. Plus, I had friends that tried the stronger stuff mentioned in this chapter, so I saw it all with my eyes. So please, no "OMG! This is not possible under this….blah blah", or "People don't do that when…blah blah". They do.

So, again. DRUGS ARE BAD! Don't do them. Also, mature themes ahead. BEWARE!

(I feel like a moron repeating that from story to story, from chapter to chapter, that "M" rating is MATURE. You all get the meaning).

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. Many of you got the correct answer, congrats! I'll make a more difficult puzzle next time, I promise.

Special thanks to **Nerys **and **Serpent in Red**. Those horny bitches rule!

This chapter shows just how touched in the head I really am. Donations for psychos-stay-in-loony-bins are welcomed!

**Chapter 6**

Though satisfied that Hermione made herself comfortable in her new room, Lord Voldemort was definitely not in great spirits. Potter's mudblood was not an easy catch. Nonetheless, Lord Voldemort felt that one year in her cell had definitely damaged her sanity. He recalled the mad laughter that erupted from the Mudblood when she threw the contents in the can at him, as well as that mad glint in her eyes. She had the same sparkle as he did, and Lord Voldemort knew for sure that this was not a sane person's glint. She was as mad as he was; she just didn't realize it yet.

However, she knew exactly what she was doing, Voldemort decided when he recalled the riddle. It had something to do with Muggles, and he could bet Gryffindor sword on that. She understood perfectly how his mind worked. He had hit her with her most painful memories and thought with brutal force, and he knew that Hermione Granger was not happy about it, far from happy, so she stepped onto the same path as he did. She would go for something that was either difficult for him to admit-something to do with Muggles-or something he could not know simply because it was too Muggle.

_What a bitch_, he thought while quickly going to the library. He would have to go through many volumes that contained anything with wars, the color red, and "living forever." He could guess that it had something to do with literature and _**Muggle**_ literature to be precise.

Who else besides him lived forever, right? Only characters in literature, so he could happily move in that direction, since he was sure that that was where he would find the answer.

_Disgusting_, he thought angrily while entering the library. He would have to go through _**Muggle**_ shit.

_Dammit_, he thought wanting to curse the Mudblood with a very painful curse when a small but very persistent thought crossed his mind.

He was not bored anymore.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

He had only five hours to find the answer and he was stuck. Lord Voldemort never gave up, even after browsing through the whole entire section of Muggle literature in some Muggle store on the outsides of London, since the books that he had in his library were either scientific or about torture.

He still didn't have the answer and he really needed that. Fast.

Happily angry- Voldemort decided that was the best definition for his emotions right now while the Dark Lord Apparated back to Azkaban.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Lucius Malfoy was surprised when his Lord called him, but he was even more surprised when he Apparated into the main hall of the Great Manor, which he still hated with passion. Damn Azkaban.

As soon as Lucius arrived, he realized that he was not the only one Death Eater already there.

Bellatrix Lestrange was already kneeling before their Lord and some unknown low-ranked Death Eaters formed a circle of bowed figures.

Trying to mask his surprise, Lucius Malfoy knelt before his Lord, right next to Bellatrix, who had, he noticed, a very strange expression on her face, as if she was deep in thought. Since that was a very rare occasion, Malfoy started to feel cold shivers in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Lord Voldemort decided that he could use some additional source of information, since he did not specify with the Mudblood that he couldn't. He called some of the Death Eaters and provided them with the puzzle, not explaining why he needed that or who provided him with said riddle. Just for the fun of it, he could, of course, gather his army and calmly ask if anyone knew the answer to the puzzle that the Potter's Mudblood had provided him when it was her turn to make riddles. However, he imagined their moronic expressions for a second and decided that he wouldn't be able to Occlude his mind from that shit ever.

So, he went one by one, asking the riddle and waiting for answers-or whatever nonsense those stupid bastards were babbling. One Death Eater already received Avada Kedavra for offering "The Order of the Phoenix."

Bellatrix received three Cruciatus curses for three moronic answers she provided to him. First, she thought long and hard and provided the answer "The Weasleys." Crucio number one was fired right away.

_What Weasleys? They were all killed_, Voldemort thought, now highly irritated. Two hours until the deadline. He will not lose!

Then, Bellatrix offered "Godric Gryffindor and his House." A stronger Crucio.

The last answer sent Bellatrix flying to the floor screaming with all her might as she offered "Red scarves on Gryffindors." That was the boiling point for the Dark Lord as he had repeated the puzzle several times stating it had something to do with literature, war, and Muggles.

xxxxxxxxx

Lucius thought hard, really hard on what he knew about Muggles… Which was not difficult at all, as he knew almost nothing at all.

When Lord Voldemort turned his angry stare at him, Lucius provided the answer that not only did not send him on the floor with a wave of Cruciatus, but actually made his Lord praise him.

"Lucius, what are your suggestions?" The quiet question in that deadly tone let Malfoy know that he had to provide something good for his own sake.

"My Lord, may I offer an alternative solution?" At the raised eyebrow, Lucius continued. "We could get some Muggles. They surely would know the answer, if it is a Muggle theme".

Voldemort would have smacked himself on the head had he not been the Dark Lord. Of course, he could use the Muggles to retrieve the information. He was the Dark Lord, for Salazar's sake; he was not supposed to know the answer to a Muggle riddle. He could, however, use Muggles.

xxxxxxxx

He was going to kill himself, the Dark Lord decided, after he had listened to one Muggle woman in her mid-thirties for two minutes.

No, he was going to torture Granger until she was dead, then kill his Death Eaters, then torture Lucius till he was drooling on the floor in a state of a vegetable, and then he was going to kill all Muggles.

Dear Merlin, Voldemort almost pleadingly (as Dark Lords did not plead) looked at the new portion of Muggles that Lucius and Bella had found and brought to him.

He had already killed twenty five, after just looking into their moronic minds, since he would not tolerate the shit that they would no doubt mutter while stealing his precious time.

Looking at the two young Muggles, Voldemort finally felt a long time forgotten sense of hope. Their minds were different from the others and there were some very interesting things swimming around their brains.

Little did Voldemort know that Lucius and Bella were not the best candidates for choosing his next victim.

xxxxxxx

When Sparkles swallowed another small mark size paper, he heard how his best friend, Swan, snorted another line of amphetamine before also swallowing the paper. Things were good, since they got the new stuff that was the coolest thing on the streets nowadays and now they were just loaded.

Several minutes went by and Sparkles wanted to express his feelings towards his best mate when a _pop_ was heard and two weirdos appeared out of thin air.

"Wow, dude, your cloak is sooo cool," Swan happily complimented Lucius Malfoy who had an expression of utter disgust and determination on his face.

"Whoa, you like, just, flew here, or something?" Damn, those drugs were really powerful and cool, Sparkles thought happily while quickly approaching Bellatrix who looked at them weirdly. Even to her, they seemed weird.

Lucius quickly grabbed Swan while Bellatrix took Sparkles and Apparated them into Azkaban, where Lord Voldemort was waiting impatiently.

xxxxxx

Voldemort expected another portion of moronic Muggles, scared out of their wits and afraid for their lives. What he received instead, however, was a completely different sight—two happily squealing teenagers bounced up and down while holding hands making a circle, all the while screaming how cool the stuff was and it was much better than some wheels.

xxxxxxxx

When Sparkles and Swan saw Voldemort, they thought they were in heaven. The dude was so cool and definitely on the extreme side with his cool red eyes with snake slits instead of pupils. Sparkles already felt envy. However, when both weirdos that travelled with them bowed to the Red-Eye, Sparkles almost drooled at the sight. He wanted to be like this as well.

Swan was hypnotized by the large moving shoelace that the new guy had on his shoulders. He wanted that shoelace as well; all the dudes would be so jealous of it, Swan thought happily. He was going to get this shoelace for himself.

xxxxxxxx

He was running out of time, only one hour left and those two really weird Muggles were too strange.

They were not afraid of anything; one of them kept staring at his eyes non-stop and the Dark Lord caught a feeling of envy flying around in the weird mind of this Muggle; and the other one kept staring at Nagini while thinking she was a what? A wonderful shoelace, the Dark Lord heard in this one's mind. Who the hell have Lucius and Bella brought him?

Voldemort could not understand a thing he saw in their minds—colorful bubbles, weird shapes—and their minds seemed to work much faster than the others'. Weird.

The Dark Lord repeated the riddle again after finally gaining the attention of the Muggles, since for some unknown reason, the Imperius Curse was not working normally as well. He would have to have his team of Unspeakables investigate these two later.

"She is red, he is close but not the same".

"Another day is not today, the red used to say"

"They fought, others fought and one side won".

"What happened to them?"

Swan and Sparkles were so happy at the moment- the cool guy wanted to play with them. They loved solving riddles.

"Red, red, red," Swan started, looking at Sparkles questioningly, "like red as in the color red, or maybe something more complicated, like an army? A red army? A bloody army? Communists?"

"No, no, you don't get it. It's like red like color, you moron. Red is a color, you know," Sparkles answered annoyed. Swan was making them look stupid in front of the weirdos and the cool guy.

Voldemort started to massage his aching temples. This was not possible.

"Yeah, but red can also be like, deep red, like deep deep red, you know, or scarlet!" Swan insisted and instantly got Voldemort's attention.

Voldemort knew that there was something deep inside his memory from childhood that was triggered by the word scarlet, but he just could not remember what exactly.

"Scarlett was that cool chick in the movie we saw, remember? She has nothing to do with the riddle; she was off to find Rhett. Don't drag her into that!" Sparkles always loved that movie and watching it always made him cry. Scarlett and Rhett were just meant to be together.

Voldemort quickly left his throne and approached the Muggle who said the last sentence.

"What did you say?" the Dark Lord asked quietly.

"Emm, you know ... don't worry, dude, we're thinking. Forget about Scarlett and Rhett, it's stupid," the other Muggle answered quickly.

Voldemort now remembered that once, when he was a young boy, they went to watch this movie with children from the orphanage. But what was the name? The name was the answer to the riddle.

The Dark Lord was ecstatic; he knew the answer-well, almost knew. He just had to find out the name of the movie, or the book, as he remembered it was based on some book.

"What is the name of the movie?" Voldemort asked quickly.

"Emmm..What was it, Swan?" Sparkles looked at Swan with a puzzled expression on his stoned face.

"Predator, no?" Swan just could not remember the name.

"No, you moron, it had something to do with water, or fire, or earth, or some other element." Sparkles was annoyed. Swan made them look stupid again.

Lucius and Bella stood quietly in the corner of the hall, watching the procedure with narrowed eyes.

"What was the name of the movie?" Voldemort roared.

"Twister?" Swan offered sheepishly.

"It has four words in it, you morons, four. Now, what is the name of the movie?" Dammit, he was annoyed.

The Muggles started firing answers quicker than Voldemort, Bella or Lucius could understand.

"Fire in the woods?"

"Deep, deep dark water?"

"Star wars?"

"Silence!" the Dark Lord roared again, silencing everyone, since even Lucius and Bella tried to guess the answer by randomly putting the words together. It was a nightmare, Voldemort decided. He needed to do something in order to drag the name from the Muggles, since he had only half-an-hour left.

Suddenly, one of the Muggles took some weird looking paper from his pocket and offered it to everyone in the room.

"Dudes, we'll get the answer much faster if you join in the brainstorming," Swan added happily. Then maybe the cool guy would give him his shoelace.

Lucius and Bellatrix moved closer to inspect the item while Voldemort scanned the item for any damaging charms. Getting nothing that he could be worried about, the Dark Lord ordered Bella to take the first piece.

Obediently, Bellatrix swallowed the piece of paper and then snorted the lines of some powder that the Muggles quickly made on the floor.

Lucius was next.

After seeing that nothing bad happened to his Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort swallowed the piece of paper and did the lines as well.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Swan and Sparkles were left alone to wander around the huge castle as soon as the drugs kicked in.

Both junkies were extremely disappointed that all their new friends just disappeared and left them alone. That was until they met some weird creatures on one of the floors of the castle. Thinking that the dudes were from Scary Movie, they kissed Dementors.

xxxxxxxx

Bellatrix wanted to know how many floors Azkaban had, so instead of Apparating, she ran up the stairs, giggling madly as said stairs smiled at her.

'They must be pure-blood stairs,' Bella thought lovingly and caressed some of the stones before running up quickly.

Lucius Malfoy was always proud to wear the name of Malfoy. So quickly drawing the enormous family tree with a shaking hand that held the wand, Lucius decided to share the knowledge of his ancestors with the commoners.

A few minutes later, Lucius Malfoy was seen on the sixth floor of the Azkaban prison where Mudbloods were held, explaining the tree to some unknown Muggle-borns in the cell, encouraging them to speak about the greatness of his family.

xxxxxxxx

Lord Voldemort stood shakily on the floor where his rooms were located. His hands were shaking so much that he couldn't hold a wand properly. When he did, he couldn't fire a normal spell, since the amount of power behind said spell was much more than he anticipated or intended to have.

He already killed five Death Eaters while he ran upstairs, leaving Bella behind to caress the stairs. All his spells went wrong. Then, he tried to hold a quill in his hand and it snapped in two. Everything he touched either exploded or was damaged beyond repair. He could not control his magic and his mind was in a weird state. And now Lord Voldemort was really afraid to do what he needed to. He wanted to use the bathroom but was afraid to touch his member.

Since "Gone with the Wind" popped into his mind right after he took Muggle-knows-what, Lord Voldemort hurried to Hermione's room to finally fuck her. The only problem was that he wanted to pee.

xxxxxxx

While Voldemort and certain Death Eaters were struggling with the new world they were seeing, Hermione Granger was calmly eating dinner in her room awaiting Voldemort's arrival. House-elves brought her some food some time ago, and Hermione was busy consuming the wonderfully cooked meal and, she guessed, pomegranate juice, since it tasted a little bit bitter.

What Hermione didn't know was that Voldemort had ordered the elves to add the same paper he had consumed into her dinner and to add powder into her juice.

xxxxxxx

Finishing her dinner, Hermione stood up and came closer to the window. She could see the beautiful sunset that illuminated the sea with peaceful ray lights.

Her hands started to shake and Hermione felt some sort of wave crash over her head, turning the world upside down when Lord Voldemort slammed into her door forgetting to open it first.

Giggling, Hermione heard a grumble, which she guessed came from the Dark Lord's fallen body, and then the door flew open, revealing Voldemort in all his glory with dilated pupils and a smile on his handsome face.

"Hi!" The greeting flew from Hermione's mouth before she could understand what was going on, and she was sure the same ridiculous smile on his face was on hers, too. She was not in control over her body and her mind, and by the looks of it, she was not the only one.

"Hermione," the Dark Lord growled and approached her quickly.

Her name sounded so sexy on his lips, Hermione thought while meeting dilated pupils with her own.

Her body was on fire; her womanhood was just itching to be touched by him. Dark Lord or not, he was a gorgeous man, and she needed him as quickly as possible.

Just when she thought he was going to jump her, he made a strangled noise and moved towards her bathroom.

"Hold it," he said, turning to Hermione who entered right after him.

At first Hermione thought he was talking about his cloak, but when she finally saw where he was pointing at, her face became red with embarrassment and, at the same time, arousal.

The Dark Lord was pointing to his trousers where his tool was impatient to get out. Unfortunately, Voldemort could not do it himself, since he really didn't want to test his uncontrolled power on his cock, so he needed her to hold it for him while he was relieving himself.

Some part of his brain told Voldemort he should be throwing Avada Kedavras in every direction and not telling the Mudblood to help him. However, that part of the brain was overpowered by the drugs he had taken.

Hermione also knew that she should be screaming bloody murder at Voldemort, who not only drugged himself but her also, since she did understand that she was under influence of several heavy drugs. Instead, she was opening the zipper and letting his really big member out. She tenderly held it while he relieved himself. She stared at it, almost mesmerized, and she had the strangest urges to touch it, to feel it.

When Voldemort was done with the procedure, he noticed that the Mudblood was still holding his now growing member in her hands, which "accidentally" started to caress it. Faster and faster.

Hermione was stroking Voldemort in the bathroom and god was she enjoying it. It was more satisfying than she had thought it would make her feel.

A strong hand pulled her up by her hair, and Hermione found Voldemort's lips on her own, devouring her as if she were a tasty meal and she returned it enthusiastically.

Voldemort was happy that Granger's head didn't explode at his touch, or else he could not enjoy his prize now.

The kiss was far from tender- it was brutal and powerful, demanding and overwhelming. Hermione had never felt such powerful bolts of desire just from a kiss.

Somehow Hermione ended up in the Dark Lord's embrace with his hands squeezing her butt while her legs wrapped around his waist.

Slamming Hermione into the wall of the bathroom, Voldemort gathered all the control he had and made their cloth disappear. Happy that they both were intact and not somewhere where their cloth now vanished to, the Dark Lord brought Hermione even closer to his body and thrust his rock hard cock into her dripping wet slit.

Hermione screamed when she was impaled onto his member, stretching her beyond beliefs, but the waves of pleasure started rolling and crashing onto her without a stop.

Brutally penetrating the Mudblood, Voldemort was ecstatic; she felt perfect for him. He captured her sweet mouth in a brutal kiss. One of his hands held her while the other squeezed her full breast tightly and roughly.

Hermione's nails were making a bloody trace on Voldemort's back, fueling him even more.

After at least an hour of being fucked against a wall in the bathroom, Hermione found herself on the bed under a wonderful body with strong arms that held her still when she came and soft but brutal lips that seemed to suck her soul out.

Hermione felt that her mind was still present in her head, but the drugs held on, not letting her think properly. They let her only experience the ultimate pleasure she was receiving from the man that kept a fast pace even after an hour of rough sex.

Voldemort could not get enough of her. He continued to ram into her at an impossible speed, all thoughts of world dominance gone from his mind. He didn't know what drugs they had taken, but he was sure that they would not be left free for a long time.

Smirking at Hermione's dilated pupils, Voldemort remembered something.

Pushing into her tight channel with all his might, Voldemort whispered into her opened lips.

"_Gone with the wind_."

AN..AAAAND to be continued…cough


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N **And here we are. Serpie actually had to install new Office in order to post this chapter, as lazy** Nerys** and already sleeping** Serp **refused to post it for me.

Yesss, this chappy was beta-ed by two mega-monsters, who, no doubt, had fun behind my back while editing this masterpiece.

**Nerys **and** Serpent in Red **combined their efforts to make it readable. Sooo, be grateful and send them cookies :)

Again, nothing belongs to me, JKR has all the rights, so don't sue me. I am already broke anyway.

And again...Rating **M**, so you know what it means :)

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I think I replied to all of you privately. If I didn't, let me know. My medications are funny sometimes :)

Enjoy!

**Chapter 7**

_Smirking at Hermione's dilated pupils, Voldemort remembered something._

_Pushing into her tight channel with all his might, Voldemort whispered into her opened lips:_

_"Gone with the wind."_

Hermione Granger moaned a strangled _"bastard"_ when Lord Voldemort provided her with the correct answer to her riddle. She tried to grasp the idea of how he had solved the riddle, but she was distracted immensely by said Dark Lord, who kept impaling her with his very large tool at a constant and incredibly fast pace.

Hermione's mouth opened, but before the scream made it out, soft lips captured it into a brutal kiss. An aggressive and very determined tongue took full control of her mouth while strong hands pulled Hermione's body towards him, so that her nude and extremely aroused nipples were now in full contact with a cold, well-built chest.

Lord Voldemort felt as if his dick was on fire. He had been having extremely satisfying and rough sex with his Mudblood for at least several hours nonstop, but still, he wanted more and more. He didn't know what he would do with those fucking Muggles for persuading him to drug himself—either Crucio them until all their drugged shit leaked out of their dirty mouths, or to actually thank them. Since no matter how drugged he was, Lord Voldemort would not thank anyone, especially Muggles, he would Crucio them anyway. Later.

At this moment, he just wanted to concentrate on his Mudblood, and he wanted his Mudblood even more as she started biting his ear, drawing blood while trying to deepen the penetration.

_Horny bitch,_ Voldemort thought happily and pulled away from her.

Her scream of anger and frustration was silenced, as he turned her over, placing her on all fours and thus giving him a perfect view of her wonderful womanhood.

Dammit, now he wanted to taste her.

Hermione was on all fours waiting for the brutal penetration with excitement. However, a loud shriek erupted from her mouth as she felt a soft and extremely hot mouth on her nether lips, sucking and licking her as if she were some sort of a dessert.

_Mudblood or not, Salazar, she's perfect_, the Dark Lord thought while lapping up her flowing nectar and fucking her with his tongue. His right hand, coated with her juices, was already stretching her anus.

With a hot tongue on her pussy and three fingers in her ass, Hermione thought she was going to die right there. She had never felt anything like that and by the looks of it, "that" was far from ending.

Finally finding the willpower to drag his mouth from her sweet essence, Lord Voldemort grabbed Hermione's hair and pulled her head up, so that his wet lips met her dried ones in a brutal kiss while he penetrated her ass with one strong and swift move.

Hermione felt the pain, but other feelings, such as joy, ecstasy, arousal, and excitement, overwhelmed the pain, and soon, Hermione felt herself ramming back, impaling herself even further onto his cock that was moving in and out of her.

_Dear Merlin, what am I doing?_

Hermione's rational part of mind was still present, but its voice was hardly audible; it was not even close to being released from the drugged one. At the moment, she could only focus on the unprecedented joy she felt, being thoroughly ravished by the Dark Lord.

She was in heaven.

xxxxxxx

Narcissa Malfoy was having her "high-class, pure-blood" gathering, where the most noble and rich pure-blood wives gathered to gossip and show off in front of each other. Her husband was missing, which was odd, since Lucius always came around this time of the evening. Her wonderful son was in the left wing of the Malfoy Manor, where he spent time learning the more difficult Dark Arts spells.

Among the chatter and laughter, Narcissa thought that she had heard some noise upstairs, where Lucius and her rooms were located. Hoping that it was not a moronic elf that dropped something precious, Narcissa decided to check herself.

Upon entering her bedroom, the wife of Lucius Malfoy stopped in mid-tracks: There, in the middle of the glorious room was her dear husband, who was roaming through her jewelry box. From time to time, he would throw her precious jewelry behind his shoulder, letting them crash into the mirror. Just when Narcissa opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was doing, Lucius turned around and Narcissa nearly fainted.

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, the Minister of Magic of Great Britain, the noblest pure-blood patriarch and Dark Lord's right-hand man, was standing in their bedroom dressed in his Minister of Magic dark navy cloak with at least twenty heavy chains around his neck. With horror, Narcissa saw her and Draco's Malfoy crests amongst all the chains that held the name of Malfoy hanging in front of the robes. Lucius's beautiful hair was not tied by a black ribbon as usual. Instead, it was held in place by a flower-shaped diamond clasp—**her** diamond clasp. That, however, was not the most horrifying sight. The most horrifying sight, were the crazy and frantic orbs with huge pupils instead of Lucius's usually cool and calculating grey eyes.

xxxxx

Bellatrix Lestrange Apparated to Malfoy Manor just in time to witness her sister's husband jumping down the stairs with all the heavy chains around his neck and making bling-bling sounds. Her sister appeared shortly, running after him and screaming his name.

"Lucius, stop!" Narcissa screamed at her jumping-on-the-stairs husband when she saw her sister Apparate into the hall.

The one glimmer of hope Narcissa had died when she saw her insane sister with the same huge eyes as her husband. Bellatrix then plopped down and sat on the marble floor, talking to an old house-elf with a smile on her crazed face.

_What the hell happened? _was Narcissa's only question as both her husband and sister Apparated away while giggling and holding hands.

xxxxx

Panic and fear gripped the Malfoy's wife's heart when she entered Azkaban, now known as the Great Slytherin Manor. Even though Narcissa had never been an active Death Eater, she had always supported her husband and was always loyal to the pure-blood ways. The back-up she had called for, when she had no idea what to do with her apparently out-of-control husband and sister, was standing next to her with the same expression of disbelief and anguish.

When the usually stoic and cold Mrs. Malfoy told Rodolphus about Lucius and Bella behaving weirdly, looking wild and frantic and bordering on hysterics, Rodolphus decided to go to the Dark Lord for help. It was one thing for his crazy wife to behave abnormally. It was a common thing, so nothing new there. It was a completely different thing for Lucius Malfoy to behave the same way. Something had happened to them, and both Narcissa and Rodolphus knew that they had to go to see the Dark Lord for help and advice.

xxxxx

"I hate you, you monster," Hermione Granger shrieked while riding the Dark Lord on the luxurious bed in his room. A couple of minutes—or maybe hours, as Hermione lost count to the time—had passed since they had relocated to his room. The table, the chair and the wall were already "tried" by their glued together bodies, so now it was time for the bed.

"Shut up, Mudblood, and fuck," Voldemort groaned through gritted teeth before adding sarcastically, "since I got the answer correctly and I voiced it."

"You were late ... plus ... I know ... you cheated." She was speeding up, and it was hard to talk while being impaled on his large cock.

"Oh, really? And what made you think that?"

Dammit! When will the Mudblood shut up and let him enjoy their life-time lasting sex?

"Because you're a cheating—" she bit him on his lips "—lying—" bit again, "—scheming—" another bite now on his neck "—Slytherin—" a bite followed that drew blood, and Voldemort moaned, "—bastard."

Hermione finished the sentence just when they both reached their climax.

"It doesn't change a thing, Mudblood," the Dark Lord replied while turning them over so that he was now hovering over Hermione's naked and sweaty body.

"It does. You cheated, and you were late with the answer. And you fucked me," Hermione answered while focusing her still dilated pupils on Voldemort's angry red, bleeding lips.

"And?" Voldemort raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her while sucking her erected nipple.

"And you'll fulfill your promise. You'll bury Harry as we had agreed before," Hermione half-moaned. That bastard was doing something unbelievable to her body. No, it was because of the drugs, Hermione reminded herself.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"I'll let you fuck me again," Hermione tried to negotiate while Voldemort swiftly moved to the second nipple.

"I will anyway," he smirked smugly while entering Hermione in one swift move.

"I mean later as well."

Hermione thought she should—and probably, she would—burn in hell for offering that to the monster that destroyed their world because of his world dominance complex, but she would do anything to give Harry his eternal rest. She would damn herself to be Voldemort's whore; she would damn her own soul in the afterlife. She would do anything for him, even if he was already dead.

Lord Voldemort captured Hermione's bruised lips in another dominating kiss while pushing her body into a sitting position. His hands held onto her brutally and steadily.

He really enjoyed the Mudlood, and he knew that it was not because of the drugs; he had had his fair share of women before, and he knew very well the capability one possessed. And dear Salazar, this Mudblood could give the best whores a run for their money. She was meant for sex.

Looking into Hermione's eyes, Voldemort kissed her sweetly on the lips and purred, "Deal."

A swirl of magic and Hermione found herself bound by oath to Voldemort.

Her still drugged mind registered that she had officially proclaimed herself the Dark Lord's whore for as long as he wished.

_What have I done_, Hermione thought before screaming in anger and ecstasy.

_What have I done_, Voldemort thought, understanding that he could have had her anyway without losing his toy number two.

xxxxxx

Lucius was walking back and forth, back and forth, impatiently waiting for Bellatrix who was late. For a second. Malfoy wanted to go and check on his Lord, but then when he had tried earlier, he couldn't find Lord Voldemort anywhere. And now he didn't have the time, since he and Bellatrix had important things to do.

_What is taking her so long_, Lucius thought annoyed. _Can't she even cook?'_

xxxxx

Belladonna, some smashed potato roots, apples, fried frogs and other disturbing components were laying on the table in front of Bellatrix, who was busy stirring several boiling cauldrons and placing some dirty bowls onto a silver trolley that she had stolen from the house-elves.

xxxxx

Narcissa and Rodolphus had already been to the main hall, and then, they had checked the first and second floors of Azkaban, where they found two soulless bodies with weird smiles on their faces. No Death Eaters were seen anywhere, and Narcissa and Rodolphus started to panic.

Just when they moved to the fifth floor they heard a weird sound which was coming closer and closer, approaching them with its "trrr, trrr, trrr" noise. Narcissa frowned while Rodolphus pulled out his wand from his sleeve. The sound came closer and closer, and soon, it was joined by two very familiar voices.

Quickly glancing at each other, they ran towards the end of the hallway where the sounds were coming from.

The only thing that stopped Narcissa from falling onto the floor was the hand holding onto her securely. However, said secure hand turned unsteady as well when Mr. Lestrange and Mrs. Malfoy were greeted by the sight of their spouses near the prison cells.

Bella was quickly pushing a trolley with several fuming cauldrons on top of it forward while Lucius walked next to her and opened the door to the cell. They had mutually agreed to feed the prisoners while educating them about the ruling regime in detail.

Once they entered the cell, Bella poured the indescribably liquid into bowls while Lucius did a speech about how the Ministry functioned.

Not only was it clear to Narcissa and Rodolphus that their spouses were under the influence of an unknown spell or potion, but also to the scared prisoners. They kept staring at the giggling Bellatrix Lestrange, who kept offering them her pure-blood dish, and Lucius Malfoy, whose every movement was accompanied by heavy bling-bling sounds, coming from the gold and silver chains around his neck.

For the first time in their existences, Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Lestrange and all the prisoners who were being visited by the "Duo" prayed for the Dark Lord to show up and clear the mess.

And in the days to come, Rodolphus would forever regret his hastily made decision to activate his Dark Mark and call for the Dark Lord.

xxxxx

Voldemort and Hermione were having passionate sex while somehow managing to insult each other when the Dark Lord felt Rodolphus's call through the Dark Mark.

Deciding it must be something very important, since Rodolphus Lestrange did not call his Lord that often and for no reason, Voldemort Apparated to the location of the call.

Completely forgetting to take Hermione off his cock and getting dressed.

xxxxx

Lucius stopped mid-speech about the supreme regime; Bella poured the disgusting liquid a.k.a. pure-blood dish on her legs instead of the bowl; prisoners thought that they somehow ended up in another dimension; Narcissa finally found her spot on the ground; and Rodolphus dropped his wand near the unconscious Mrs. Malfoy when a completely naked Lord Voldemort Apparated into the hallway with Hermione Granger attached to his cock.

xxxxx

No matter how stoned the Dark Lord was, he knew they had company. And even though he was the Dark Lord and could walk around with a naked ass as long as he wished and wherever he wanted, he did not want to stay naked with the Mudblood still on his cock in front of his Death Eaters and numerous witnesses.

Quickly putting Granger on the ground, Voldemort conjured robes for himself and a blanket for the Mudblood, who was staring at Bella with a gaze full of fury. Bella, in return, kept staring at the Mudblood as if she had never seen her before. Lucius was speechless, and Rodolphus understood the depth of his mistake when he took a look at his Lord and Potter's Mudblood's state. It was obvious to him that Bella, Lucius, the Dark Lord, and Granger were all affected by the same spell or potion, but he had no idea what to do.

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do when she saw Bellatrix Lestrange standing nearby.

Quickly getting up from the ground, Hermione snatched Voldemort's wand away, and with all the hate and anger she had inside of her, she pointed it at the still form of Bellatrix, who was now staring at her Master with huge eyes filled with hurt.

"You bitch!" Hermione screamed, recalling this was the woman who had killed Ron.

Before Rodolphus could stop her, she already had Bellatrix under the Cruciatus Curse, coming from the Dark Lord's wand.

Astonished, Rodolphus tried to stop the Mudblood by knocking her down, Muggle-style, since his own wand had rolled away somewhere. But that didn't seem to do the trick at all, for Hermione continued cursing Bellatrix even as she was lying on the floor. So, his head swivelled around to find his wand. Seeing it lying in the distance, he wanted to walk over there, when a familiar, commanding hand halted him, long fingers gripping around his wrist. Looking up to the face of the owner, Rodolphus wished he had also taken what they all seemed to have consumed, since Lord Voldemort was enjoying the show of the Mudblood torturing Bellatrix very much.

"Fun, isn't it?" an amused Lord Voldemort asked, shocking Lestrange even more by merrily advising Hermione to change the angle of** his** wand in order for more pain to be inflicted.

xxxxx

Lucius could not remember how or when he had fallen asleep. He could, however, remember his wife dragging him home and using a body-bind curse to put him to bed. The enormous headache and the shitty feeling in his stomach were not helping his cause of waking up.

When his brain fully woke up, Lucius Malfoy jumped from his bed and looked in the mirror. All the events of the last day-and-a-half returned in full force, and for the first time in his life, Lucius Malfoy was afraid to face the day.

xxxxx

Her body hurt like hell; all her limbs were aching; plus, the headache and the nauseous feeling in her stomach were the first things she noticed when her husband woke her up.

She didn't remember how she ended up in bed. But when she remembered what had happened before the blackout, Bellatrix Lestrange wanted to eat her own head and roast herself on the nearest fire.

_Dear Lord_, she thought as she remembered: the smiling stairs, the trolley, the bowls of **her** food, and then, **that** nightmarish scene with her Lord and the Mudblood.

Bellatrix Lestrange was really too disturbed to get up and deal with the consequences of what had happened.

xxxxx

His left arm was dead or ... he had lost it. That was what Voldemort thought when he tried to wiggle his fingers.

Nothing.

Opening his red eyes, Lord Voldemort was greeted by a tremendous headache, an equally large shitty mood, and a certain Mudblood, who was lying on his presumed dead left hand. Naked.

And then, it all came back.

_No, no, no_, the Dark Lord thought when he remembered every detail of the last day-and-a-half. He couldn't have done that.

Dear Merlin, why hadn't he killed all the Muggles before?

Then, he wouldn't have eaten that shit those two junkies had provided him with. Then, he wouldn't be remembering his at-least-fourteen-hours-long sex. Although, judging by his insanely itching and hurting flame-red cock, it could have been longer as well. And he'd done all that with Potter's Mudblood! He had kissed, sucked, and—dear Salazar—licked the little shite to heaven, hell, and beyond.

Speaking of Potter, Voldemort felt an immense urge to strangle the Mudblood, who was sleeping next to him. But the little wench numbed his arm by placing her filthy body on top of his holy appendage, so it had to wait. He couldn't believe he'd made a vow to bury that four-eyed freak. His eyes started to twitch. They all were going to pay.

xxxxx

Snuggling closer to the warm body next to her, she slowly opened her eyes just in time to meet an angry stare from red eyes with slit pupils. Lord Voldemort was glaring at her as if he was ready to cast a "nice" round of _Crucio _on her.

_What the hell_, Hermione thought and then suddenly, smacked the Dark Lord across his face with a banshee-award-winning scream. She could remember it all. **All** of it. There was hell to pay.

"You drugged me, you sick fuck!" Hermione roared, while trying to hit Voldemort again.

However, this time she was slapped back by the Dark Lord, who resembled a fire-breathing dragon right about now.

"Shut your trap, Mudblood, or it will be the last thing you'll ever say."

Voldemort hadn't been in such a shitty mood for…ever.

"You shut **your** trap, moron," Hermione snapped back.

She hadn't been that annoyed, angry, and furiously depressive for…ever.

A small house-elf, that quietly popped into the room at the time he was always demanded to, saw his Master roar and slap the girl who was lying with him on his bed.

When the said girl used her fist to make her statement better understood and hit his Master straight into his face in return, Popple, the house-elf decided it was better not to interrupt. And as quietly as he came, he disappeared.

**A-N2**... To be continued. More angst to come...hihihi..face-palm


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Emm..Sorry for the long wait. I am frustrated with my driving course (damn that manual stick and rules) and so I lacked the inspiration.

Now, however, everything should be fine, as I have found a therapy for my frustration with driving.

Nerys and Serp very very happily approved of it (you'll find out only in the next chapter..grins)

Thank you all who reviewed, I love reviews!

As always, amazing **Serp** and **Nerys **beta-ed the chapter.

Anyway, thank you very much for sticking with me!

This story will be like a schizophrenic- jumping from humor to angst then to hilarious insanity and back to some dark stuff. And sex. Yap, all there. Serpie-package. Order for free.

P.S I have been sucked into the Supernatural universe (watched all seasons non-stop, now I am even crazier than before and sometimes I freak in the dark as well), so in case you've seen the TV series I am talking about, you'll see the influence of it.

Let the fun begin!

**Chapter 8**

This was not how Hermione Granger imagined her life to be. Sitting in front of a huge mirror, she stared at it unseeingly. Without looking away, she wiped the tears that formed at the corners of her eyes again as a bitter smile appeared at her lips. She could not tear her eyes away from her reflection, a reflection that showed an empty shell that was formerly known as the brightest witch of her time. It now showed a bruised face with hollow cheeks and purple marks of bruises she had got from Voldemort that morning.

She was his whore, a willing whore that sold her body to the monster in exchange for Harry's eternal rest.

A true smile formed on Hermione's face as she recalled the quick, but nonetheless, proper funeral that Harry Potter had finally gotten. It was only her and the pissed-off Voldemort who looked like he wanted to chew off the gravestone on Harry's resting place. It was quick, but it was done. She did all she could to give it all to her best friend, and now she was going to pay the price.

Wincing, Hermione stood up and in slow pace went to the bathroom. Her womanhood was still on fire, itching and burning like hell, not to mention her other "place," as Hermione preferred to call is, that was not so gently abused by Voldemort. She deserved that, Hermione thought bitterly, for fucking with that monster and enjoying it. She was no fool— yes, he had drugged himself and her as well, but Hermione understood very well that what she had felt during their "time together" was not because of the drugs.

Her virginity was given to Ron, just before the final battle. She could still remember the shaking hands, sloppy kisses and the sweet love-making with Ron in the Room of Requirement. He was so gentle, so sweet, and so innocent; he wanted to love her and she wanted to love him back. It felt good, Hermione remembered, but in a different way. She felt good from just being with Ron and not because they were intimate. The act itself was quick, and Hermione honestly didn't understand then how it was possible to be crazy about sex like some people were.

Now she knew better. Voldemort, the same bastard that killed all those who were dear to her, made her feel it all. She lost count to how many times she'd had an orgasm, but she could still feel the tremors in her body. Voldemort made her see the stars. Dear Merlin, Hermione thought, was it possible to hate him even more than before?

Yes, it was, she decided a second later.

xxxxxx

"Crucio."

The curse flew towards Bellatrix for the tenth time in one hour. Lucius was already unconscious on the floor after receiving the same "good morning" from their Lord.

After the fight with the Mudblood, Voldemort destroyed every single soul that witnessed his 'un-Lordly' actions. The only ones left were the Malfoys (who were already punished), the Lestranges (who were being punished now), and _her_.

He would have to deal with the Mudblood later. At least, she was now his branded whore, bonded to him by magic. That thought made his mood a bit better, but then he remembered that he allowed Potter to be buried and his rage returned ten times stronger.

xxxxx

Bang.

_Him again_, Hermione thought angrily not even bothering to look up.

"On your knees, Mudblood," his cruel, sadistic voice commanded.

Hermione had not seen the bastard in three days, which should have been filled with happiness due to not seeing his greatness. However, those three days turned out to be very, very hard for Hermione. When she was awake, her mind would generously supply her with detailed images of what had happened between Voldemort and her. When she was asleep, she saw accusing glares from Harry, Professors and most importantly Ron. Their whispers, filled with hate and disgust, made her wake up several times per night, covered in cold sweat. She could find no rest. Not at day, not at night.

Sometimes during those three days, during which, Hermione assumed, Voldemort was dealing with the consequences and witnesses of the "thing," she wished for him to appear and just mock her, torture her…anything but leaving her alone with her restless mind.

Without getting up from the couch, Hermione gave him a swift and short reply.

"No."

And he gave her precisely what she wished for.

"Crucio." If the Mudblood wanted to play rough, Voldemort had no qualms in accommodating her.

A few minutes later, the curse was lifted and a sobbing but relieved Hermione lay on the floor breathing hard. Pain was all she deserved.

xxxxx

That pattern went on and on for a couple of weeks. Voldemort would come in and demand her on her knees, Hermione would either tell him to shove his orders into his arse or just give a plain "no" for an answer, and then, there was the pain: the all-cleansing, soothing, and comforting pain.

Everything changed one day after Voldemort disappeared for two weeks. That had been the longest Hermione had not heard from him. All was quiet. The castle was silent, since none of the Death Eaters dared to touch her without permission from their master. The newspapers she received daily reported which celebrity went to jail, which celebrity got pregnant, then the weather news and … nothing. Nothing about the reign meant that whatever Voldemort was doing was not related to destruction or conquering another country. Since he was the ruler, the papers were more than happy to provide any brutal information on how the Dark Reign took over another country. But now, for the last two weeks since Voldemort's mysterious disappearance, it was all gossip, horoscope or weather news.

At first, Hermione cackled madly when she thought that the bastard had died in the woods and no one could find his rotten corpse. Then, she sulkily remembered all his Horcruxes and, with a heavy sigh, sat down on the couch to read yet another book. Luckily for her, Voldemort did not leave her alone; he left her his library.

Chewing the sandwich the house-elves had given her earlier, Hermione absentmindedly stroke the cover of her new book and opened to the first page.

_Great,_ Hermione thought when she saw what book she picked out from the library without looking at the contents first.

Life had a funny sense of humor, Hermione decided and started reading the book that had an almost transparent title on the cover:

_The Book of the Damned_.

xxxxxx

His Unspeakables were morons. Two weeks ago, an unknown artifact was found near the Veil, an artifact that looked like a simple box shaped like a star and had unknown runes all over it.

Since it was something that fell or was thrown from the Veil of Death, Voldemort didn't come close to it for a few days, until proper investigations were made. The damned box had nothing dangerous on it or in it.

The question that was on everybody's mind was: What the hell was it?

After making sure that it was safe for him to touch it, Voldemort decided to find out the answer to the mysterious box himself. He was smarter than all of the Unspeakables combined, so he had a better chance.

Four days passed and the Dark Lord was beyond angry. No spells, no curses worked on it. And he wanted to know what the box was meant for. It should do something, right? Trash would not just randomly appear near the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.

xxxxxx

Two more days had gone by and Voldemort decided to summon a demon. If no one from this world knew what the hell this piece of shit was, then possibly someone from the other world would.

It took him two hours to prepare the summoning ritual for a demon. As soon as the cursed creature appeared, Voldemort showed him the box, but before he could even ask the question, the damn thing screeched and vanished.

What the fuck, was the only thing Voldemort could come up with.

There was only one thing he hadn't tried yet. However, he didn't need that "thing" to think that he needed help. He would _**not**_ let that "thing" think that he needed help.

It was time to see the Mudblood and play riddles. Again.

xxxxxx

Voldemort quietly entered her room and saw Hermione asleep on the couch, stirring and sobbing.

_At least someone is not bored_, Voldemort thought amused. He shoved Hermione off the couch, and she fell on the floor with a loud "thud" while Voldemort seated himself on it.

"Jerk," Hermione greeted him from the floor.

"Pleased to see you, too, darling. Before you open that lousy mouth of yours, I have something important to tell you. I have your attention, yes?"

His words made Hermione look at him cautiously, afraid of what the psycho might have come up with during his two weeks of absence. If the chilly look in his red eyes was some sort of indicator of what she could expect from him, then damn, was she in for a ride.

Hermione decided to simply nod, too wary about opening her mouth, since she had no clue what might fly from there: "Yes", "No", or "Fuck off." Better to play it safe when the Dark Lord was in "the mood," as Hermione labeled Voldemort's current state of mind.

"As you have _**probably**_ noticed," Voldemort started calmly, placing emphasis on the word, "I haven't touched you since that unfortunate day, and as—" Here, Voldemort was interrupted by Hermione who just couldn't keep her mouth shut any longer.

"You mean the day you let yourself get drugged; drugged me, Malfoy and Bellatrix; fucked me on every surface possible; and Apparated naked into the hall with me attached to your filthy cock?"

Instead of the expected round of Cruciatus Curses, Hermione was shocked to see Voldemort's jaw clench as he tried to keep calm.

"Do you, perhaps, remember any other day when you rode me like the dirty whore you are, screaming in ecstasy? If you do, then please remind me. If not, shut the hell up".

Hermione shivered—something was definitely going on, and it had to be connected to Voldemort's disappearance.

"As I was saying, I have something important to offer to you. However, it has a huge bonus and a huge minus to it. Would you like to hear it out?"

"Yes," Hermione answered quickly. _What is going on?_

"We haven't played games for a long time, Granger. So now, I am offering you a very interesting game. Should you win, I will let you know what I was doing for two weeks and I will let you into the project. The Unspeakables' project," Voldemort added sweetly when he saw the fire in Mudblood's eyes. Yes, she was very eager to get into that project, that he was sure of.

"Before you start drooling over the possibility to use your brain for once and get into something you have only dreamed of, I should point out the minus side. Should you lose, I will have you as my very willing sex slave for as long as I wish. And I mean willing—no stone faces, no cursing during sex—you will be enjoying it. After sex, you may cry for as long as you wish and dream of hating glares from the Light side".

"_Woohoo…Unspeakables' project or Voldemort's willing whore … which I already am. I can't escape the reality; he would take me anyway and then … but with his way, I will have something to do, something that I have always wanted to do. I am damned anyway, _Hermione thought not looking at Voldemort.

"Fine. What are the rules?" Hermione asked Voldemort who looked like he had known from the beginning which option she would choose. He had of course, and they both knew it.

_Bastard_.

"Since I know the project, I will let you decide who will get to give the riddle and who to solve it".

Hermione beamed at that. That bastard wouldn't know what hit him. Since she had nothing but books and her memory for the last two weeks, Hermione started having one issue—she couldn't get rid of a song from her mind. It had been her father's favorite, and it kept playing and playing nonstop in her mind.

"I will riddle you, Riddle. And you have ten minutes to answer, so you wouldn't go cheating like last time," Hermione added mockingly sweet. "Deal?"

He would fuck her anyway, Voldemort decided, and he needed her to solve the riddle box. He had come to a conclusion that it was to be opened by some key words. He had tried everything already, from "Pureblood" to "Dumbledore's socks," but nothing worked. Better the Mudblood suffering from annoyance than him.

"Deal," the Dark Lord said. He took out the box from his pocket and showed it to Hermione, who eagerly tried to grab it instantly.

"Tsk, tsk," Voldemort mocked and put the box on the table between him and Hermione. "The riddle, please?"

Hermione kept staring at the box, taking in all the runes and lines, all her worries forgotten for the moment.

She cleared her throat and purposely decided to just give the words without singing it, just in case the bastard knew it. Plus, she skipped the beginning as it could have pinpointed the answer.

"_My mother was a tailor_

_Sewed my new blue jeans_

_My father was a gambling man down in New Orleans_

_Now the only thing the gambler needs_

_Is a suitcase and a trunk_

_And the only time he's satisfied _

_And the only time he'll be satisfied is when he's on a drunk_

_Oh mother, tell your children_

_Not to do what I have done_

_Spend your life in sin and misery"_

Voldemort looked at her with narrowed eyes, awaiting the question. Dammit, he had heard those words somewhere before.

"The question is 'where.'" Hermione moved closer to the box and looked at Voldemort for permission to touch it.

He gave her a nod and started to dig in his memory. He knew, knew, knew, knew the answer. Dammit, it was a song and he knew it. It was very popular when he was young, but "where" … It was the title of the song, he remembered that, but what?

Looking at Granger, who was cautiously looking at the box in her hands, Voldemort had a sense of déjà vu. Last time, he had the junkies to give him the clue, no matter the consequences, but now …

He had one minute left.

He knew it and she knew it, as Hermione started humming the tune while twirling the box in her hands.

Five seconds till the deadline, Hermione opened her mouth, ready to declare herself a winner and pronounce the correct answer.

At the very last second—something which Hermione found ironic, since she was right at the moment where the answer would have come up if she were singing the lyrics out loud—Voldemort grabbed the box.

"The House of the Rising Sun," they said together.

A flash of white light illuminated the room.

xxxxx

Hermione rubbed her eyes that were sore from the bright light and looked around.

_Huh?_ That was the only question in her mind when she saw herself sitting on the floor and holding the box, her hands covered by Voldemort's, who was sitting on his couch. Unmoving.

_What is going on_, Hermione thought and made a move towards the two sitting forms when a scream erupted from her mouth.

"What the hell have you done, Mudblood?" Voldemort grabbed Hermione, all the while staring at their unmoving figures. It seemed like time had stopped, and there were only two people in the whole place that were moving. Him and Granger. He really hoped they were not ghosts. No way.

Hermione was ready to answer him when she screamed again, this time noticing that she and Voldemort were not alone. There was something standing in the corner, just behind the Dark Lord.

Voldemort saw where the Mudblood's gaze was directed to and he almost screamed himself.

He knew that pretty lady standing in the corner, smiling sweetly at them. It was the only thing he was afraid of.

Death itself came for a visit.

Xxxxx

"Tom, Tom, Tom," the pretty lady smiled at Voldemort, "always running away from me. Don't you like me at all?"

Hermione had a very bad feeling in her gut when she saw the woman, and judging by Voldemort's reaction, they were fucked.

"Who is she?" Hermione asked Voldemort quietly. It seemed, however, that the woman could hear anything from anywhere.

"I am sorry, Hermione, for not introducing myself to you properly." The lady smiled genuinely now. "You see, I am still shocked to see our Tommy here. I mean **the **Tommy that has been running away from me so, so many times that it makes me sad. And you can imagine my surprise that Tommy wanted to visit the House of the Rising Sun. Can you believe it?" The lady started laughing while Voldemort's face looked like it was made of stone.

_Impossible,_ Hermione thought while her mind arrived at a conclusion: This woman could not be **it**.

"Oh, but I am, Hermione. Pleased to meet you, darling," Death replied innocently.

"What is the House of the Rising Sun?" the Dark Lord asked, trying to control himself. He had Horcruxes, after all. Many of them. He could not possibly be dead; he _**could not**_ die. It was impossible.

"It's the place of no return with millions of different dimensions—another planet, another time, another dimension where something in the past happened differently." At that sentence, Death looked at Hermione with a smile full of pity.

"Of no return?" Voldemort barked back at the lady, coming back to his senses. No way in hell was he going to get trapped in some shithole.

"Well, technically, there is a way out, but it is for you to find out and for me to … know."

Death had the same sense of humor as Voldemort did, Hermione decided.

"Ah, Hermione, please don't insult me. I am witty and funny, while he is not."

Hermione again felt violated as her thoughts were read and then the answer provided out loud.

Voldemort's glare told Hermione to shut her mouth and mind instantly, to which she gladly agreed seeing that the Dark Lord was her only ally against Death.

"I was so bored, you know, so I gave you the box. Who knew that you two would open it? I didn't, it's not my job to know what will happen. But I am so glad! Thank you!" Death seemed ecstatic at having Voldemort as her plaything. "Now, we shall not waste any more time. It's time to get going, great adventures lay ahead."

That was definitely not how Hermione imagined Death to be.

Before the blinding white light took Hermione and Voldemort away, they heard Death's last warning.

"Do not get separated. If you do get separated, you will never be able to return and will be stuck there forever."

_Holy shit_, Hermione thought before leaving the room where Voldemort's and her bodies sat in the same position as when they touched the box.

**A/N** The song is called "The House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals.

**A/N2** The next chapter can already be named the craziest of them all...Roars with laughter just from thinking about it. :) Nerys and Serp join in. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Beta-ed version.

Guess who updated that fast? Yesss, Euro-Serpie! This is the longest chapter I have ever written so far! And you know why? Because it's my therapy (yes, I have driving theory pre-examination in 4 hours, so I decided not to wait and let go of my frustration).

The name of the town is real, I googled it. So, sorry to those who actually live there :)

This chapter is...crazy, to say the least. Please remember, that phrase "**Bonus point**" is now copyrighted by **Nerys** who offered it three days ago when I explained what I was up to in this chapter.

Huge thanks to the now-present **Serpent-in-Red **for beta-ing the chapter and to **Nerys** who had fun playing with Voldie's driving (I actually started to believe that she drives the same way hehehe)

Rating** M...**beware! LOL

**Chapter 9**

When the blinding white light took them away from their world, Hermione had a feeling that they would end up in some kind of dungeon or even hell, seeing who her companions were.

What she didn't expect was getting off the ground in the middle of a desert with a few main roads and signs that showed directions to nearby towns.

With horror, Hermione realized they were in Texas, America.

xxxxxxxxx

Voldemort was prepared for everything. Hell, he had escaped that damn bitch for so long, even taunting her with his expanding collection of Horcruxes, kind of shoving them into her face.

It was a _she_ at the moment, but he had known the other forms as well. At least this one wasn't a sore to the eyes. However, that didn't change a thing: He let himself get trapped in a major shithole, and Death had finally got to play around. And boy, he was sure - it was not going to be fun for him.

Besides, he was stuck with the Mudblood, who, for that matter, kept looking around instead of looking at their _host._

The said host cleared her throat to get the attention of Hermione's wandering gaze and, with a nice smile, started her speech.

"Welcome to the House of the Rising Sun, Hermione Jean Granger and _Tom Marvolo Riddle_." At Voldemort's real birth name, Death smiled and giggled, making Hermione stare in shock and Voldemort glare in hatred.

"As I have said before, this is a place of no return." Death raised her hand to stop both Voldemort and Hermione from interrupting her. "Technically, there is a way out. I do know how to get out of here, but I am so old that I think I have messed things up in my mind. So I really don't know." At that, she smile sweetly and shuddered her shoulders.

_Fucking Dumbledore_, Voldemort thought with hate, believing for a second that it was the old coot himself- _same moron as her_.

Hermione was still in shock so she didn't even comment on that. Besides, a thought accrued in her mind.

_"What if I don't want to go back? Anywhere is better than there."_

"Ah, and yes, just for basic information," (at that, Death looked at Hermione), "if you decide to stay here then you'll turn into a ghost, a spirit with no mind of its own, no memories; wandering around, feeling hungry all the time, and then, eating … souls. Usually, such creatures are called Dementors in your world, aren't they?"

Both Voldemort and Hermione took a step back from Death.

_Dementors?_

"Yes, I know that there is another theory of how a Dementor is created. However, do believe me when I say you are not the first ones that came to visit me here," Death replied mockingly before continuing. "So, you better somehow find a way to return home and entertain me while trying to do so. Otherwise two pretty Dementors will be joining my ranks, Horcruxes or no Horcruxes."

Death giggled again, which started to annoy Hermione to no end. Here she was, in some shithole - well, technically she knew where she was (Texas, USA), but in what time was still a question. Plus, she had to stick with the bastard so that she wouldn't end up as a Dementor.

_Could it get any worse? _Hermione thought desperately.

The lady giggled again and found herself on the receiving end of Hermione Granger's famous wrath.

"Are you high or just brain damaged? What is so funny to you about this shit you have thrown us into?" Hermione screamed at the no-longer-giggling Death.

While Voldemort seemed impressed, Death clearly didn't.

In a second, the pretty lady was replaced by a form that resembled a Dementor, with a huge empty hole for its mouth and white spooky eyes.

Hermione screamed, but Voldemort didn't, since he had seen that shit before. It was its true form, but it didn't matter to him. He hated it in any form.: male, female, spider, ghost, flower - you name it. Death had visited him in too many forms for him to count, and he had only one emotion for it: hatred.

The Thing turned back to a lady's form a second later and smiled at Hermione who decided to keep quiet from now on. Let Voldemort get all the shit from that thing; it was his fault anyway.

The Dark Lord was amusingly irritated, besides being extremely angry and a little bit afraid. However, no one would dare say that the Dark Lord was afraid of anything. Striving for immortality didn't prove anything, since he could have had other motives. He was a Slytherin after all, and once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Therefore, he decided to go with the flow and finally find out where the hell they were and what had to be done to escape this shithole.

"Where are we and what do we have to do to get out of here?" Voldemort asked Death in his usual arrogant voice.

Death smirked and waved her hand.

xxxxxxxx

An old yellow truck with green stripes hit the ground. It was so old that the paint was barely visible; the headlights were damaged so much that only a little bit of light - more like a tiny ray - was coming from them.

Hermione was sure that if anybody were to sit in there, the truck would collapse. It was the shittiest car Hermione had ever seen. Her observations of the truck were disturbed by a weird sound - a throaty genuine laugh coming from Voldemort.

"So this is the transportation of the mighty Death." Voldemort continued laughing, now adding a mocking tone to it, "And here I was, thinking you preferred horse riding."

Hermione shivered. Damn Dark Lords who had the guts to laugh at Death. Hermione herself wanted to snicker, but managed to hold the laughter down. Just in case.

The lady glared at the Hermione and smiled at Voldemort.

"Oh, no, no, Tommy. It's not me who is going to be riding this shit. It will be _you_." And with that, Death continued the laugh that suddenly stopped coming from Voldemort.

"Say what?" Hermione asked instead of Voldemort. The Dark Lord driving? No way in hell. Hermione was sure he didn't even know how to use a toaster, let alone driving a car.

That is if you could call this piece of shit a car.

Hell, even she couldn't drive. Yes, she had seen her father do that, but she herself had never even tried, seeing that Apparition was much more comfortable. Plus, there was no time for her to learn how to drive with the war and all that crap.

"Yes, yes, you heard correctly, Hermione. It will be you two lovebirds that will be using this _thing_." Death glanced at the truck and winced for a second, thinking that maybe she had overdone it. However, at second thought, the worse the better.

They both escaped her so many times that they deserved everything she was going to drag them through. After getting her number two soul on her "**Must Get**" target list, aka Harry James Potter (way too many escapes), it was a boring year anyway.

The first time the unsuspecting target number three, Hermione Granger, was destined to die was at the tender age of five from a flu, but due to her magical core, she was fully healed.

Then, she was supposed to get killed by a troll in her first year of Hogwarts, but was saved by Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

Then, that damn Basilisk couldn't even perform a normal "Death" glare. Saved by a mirror. How … annoying.

Then again, she was supposed to die from her wound in the Department of Mysteries during her 5th year. Yet, she survived again.

And finally, she was supposed to get killed by Voldemort six times. **Six**.

And what happened? The craziest and cruelest Dark Lord in centuries didn't even try to kill her once. He fucked her and played riddles. It all annoyed Death to death, which she found ironic.

Well, Death was actually very happy about the riddle part, since it was what led her most favorite guests aka target number one (labeled "**Major bitch**") and three ("**Still alive. Why?"**) to this place. She still didn't know how or why, but she would find out later.

Hermione escaped her many times, but Death actually liked her because Hermione didn't know about that little fact, and because Hermione Granger didn't rub it in her face at every chance she got.

Unlike somebody else.

Speaking of the devil … Death took a quick glance at the Dark Lord and clenched her teeth. How many times did he manage to escape her? Death used to have a notebook where she wrote down every damn occasion on which that bastard had not only escaped her clutches, but also rubbed it later into her face. It would be enough to say that her notebook had not been used for a long time, since it had no free space left to write in.

"Why can't we just Apparate?" Hermione asked while Death and Voldemort glared at each other.

"Because, Hermione darling, every new world you find yourself in, will have a few perks. Each one will be different from the other. I will leave you a note in a beautiful creamy envelope at the beginning of each _**adventure**_," (at that word Death smirked), "where some basic general information regarding the worlds will be written."

"And?" Voldemort pressed.

"And … tadaaa!" Death saluted them and disappeared in a flash of light leaving a creamy colored enveloped on the place where it had stood.

xxxxxx

"So, what do we do now?" Hermione asked warily. Shock was still present in her system.

"You go and pick up the envelope, Mudblood," Voldemort replied annoyingly.

"You go and pick it up! It is your fault anyway that we are here." Hermione was not one to step back.

"My fault? It was you, you filthy Mudblood, who gave that damned riddle. Why this one, tell me? How did you know the answer to the code to the box?" the Dark Lord roared in rage and pointed his creepy wand at Hermione. "You made me disappear from the world I have created, where I had it all, into some shithole, face to face with that bitch who had been chasing after me for decades!"

Now Hermione was really scared; she had never seen Voldemort that mad and angry. However, his next action did not surprise her at all.

"Crucio," Voldemort roared with all the hate he could muster, and Hermione closed her eyes waiting for the curse to hit her and take her away to the ocean of pain.

xxxxxxx

She waited and waited and waited. Then, Hermione opened one eye to investigate the situation, and immediately, upon seeing Voldemort, her eyes flew open, widening to enormous size.

Voldemort was standing there looking as if someone stole his favorite teddy bear, if he ever had one.

"Crucio," Voldemort repeated the curse again now with a cautious note in his voice.

Hermione stood up straight now and even moved closer to the now almost shaking Dark Lord.

"Crucio," Voldemort now whispered, sounding almost pleading.

Now, it was Hermione's turn to shake as she felt the curse.

"Hehehehe, stop it, you moron, hehe," Hermione giggled. "It tickles."

xxxxxxx

Ten minutes later, both Hermione and Voldemort stood with their wands drawn out trying every spell that came to their minds. Nothing worked.

At Voldemort's "Lumos," the tip of his wand flickered for a second on the first attempt, and then nothing at all came out on the second attempt.

Hermione didn't even get the flicker of light.

They looked at each other in horror, coming to same conclusion at the same time.

As if they were one person, they ran towards the envelope Death had left them.

Hermione leaned closer to the Dark Lord to read the contents of the letter he had now opened. He was her only ally now, so she could care less that she was leaning against Voldemort. He seemed to be thinking along the same line as her - and thus, proving her conclusion correct - since he was allowing her closeness and not pushing her away.

Standing on her toes to see better, since Voldemort kept staring at the contents of the letter without blinking and with no expression on his face as if he were a statue, Hermione started to read.

Hermione joined the Dark Lord in the shocked-to-statue-like condition when she finally read the letter.

_Dearest Tommy and Hermy,_

_How do you do? … Insert smiley_

_I know, it sucks, right? ... Insert another smiley_

_And in case you didn't guess yet … insert wide eyes _

_You two are now in a world where magic … insert long wait with big eyes_

_Does not exist … insert laughing smiley_

_P.S I love those muggle inventions. They are sooo cool, aren't they? But, you wouldn't know since you both are wizards … Or wait … insert thinking face_

_You were wizards! Insert winking smiley_

_Now you are ….. dun dun dun_

_MUGGLES! Insert muhahaha laugh_

_Enjoy (or not), but I will! … Insert watery smiley full of gratitude_

_Yours (actually it's otherwise),_

_D.e.A.t.H, LOL_

_Xoxoxoxo_

xxxxxxxxxx

"So, we don't have our magic here?" Hermione asked quietly.

No reply.

"Emm … Voldemort?"

No reply.

"Lord Voldemort?"

No reply.

"Voldie?" Hermione asked in desperation.

A shudder and still no reply.

"Tom?" Hermione shook the still statue-like Voldemort and finally made eye contact with his red desperate eyes.

"No, we don't. We are Muggles," Voldemort answered in calm voice before spinning around and shouting to where the Death had been standing before.

"When I find you, I will rip your fucking tongue off and shove it down your arse, you fucking bitch! Who do you think you are, taking away my, **my **magic!"

Hermione was actually kind of afraid for Death, since it seemed that Voldemort's only goal was to destroy it. And judging from her own experience, Hermione knew just how determined Voldemort could be.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour of shouting later, with Voldemort almost losing his voice, Hermione started to think about their situation.

No magic, no money, no knowledge of where and when they were, dressed in weird cloth (she had pajama-like trousers and a shirt while Voldemort was dressed in his "casual" - a long velvety cloak with a hood, black trousers and shiny shoes), and all they had was a fucking truck.

Peachy.

xxxxxxxxxx

Voldemort and Hermione came closer to the car, understanding that the only way to get away from the desert and find something about the world they found themselves thrown into, was to actually drive. Hermione made attempt to take the driver's seat, but she was not so gently shoved aside by Voldemort who managed to seat himself in the driver's seat instead. His huge robes were tangled between his legs and torso, making him really uncomfortable.

Hermione wanted to laugh at the sight of the Dark Lord tangled in his expensive robes behind the steering wheel of an old ugly truck, but quickly seated herself beside him in the passenger's seat, so that Voldemort would not drive away without her.

"Do you know how to drive?" she dared to ask, curious.

"Do you?" he bit back.

"Not really, but I've seen my dad do it."

"Exactly, I am the man here, so I am driving."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "My mum drives, too."

"I am Lord Voldemort and Lord Voldemort is always the one at the controls."

"Fine," Hermione snapped. "Just so you know, Lord Voldemort, really important people get driven." And she snickered at that, slouching down in her chair **after **buckling up firmly.

An hour later, Hermione came to conclusion that she didn't really needed the seatbelt, since she could have walked by foot from one part of the desert to another by the time Voldemort finally understood how to start an engine.

At first, after seating himself and putting his hands on the wheel, he just sat there staring at the road.

Hermione scratched her forehead and rubbed her eyes while Voldemort just stared at the road, not getting why they weren't moving.

"Ignition," Hermione finally offered.

"So?" Voldemort asked back annoyed. That stupid can was too damaged to even understand the simple idea he was sending towards it - _drive._

"Use the key to start the ignition." Hermione rolled her eyes at the expression on the Dark Lord's face.

Voldemort glared at her for a few seconds before muttering something about Mudbloods and Muggle shit.

When he finally turned the key and the car started vibrating, Hermione was both relieved and afraid.

Lord Voldemort behind the wheel of an old fucking truck was not a good idea.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You have to choose the correct gear! Correct, not the one you like at the moment! Is it that too hard to understand?"

Hermione lost her patience and common sense after two more hours of Voldemort's "driving," if you could call the few meters they moved since the ignition "driving." And igniting the car was something Voldemort seemed to like because he had to do it over and over and over again after taking his foot off the clutch too fast. On other occasions, he kept it on there too long, which made the truck sound like a fighter jet breaking through the sound barrier when he pressed the accelerator in his Dark Lordish way, namely all the way down, muttering: "You can never have too much power."

Of course, "too much power" didn't make him move an inch, which made Hermione mutter gleefully in return: "The all-mighty Dark Lord can't even get started."

Hermione and Voldemort bickered for at least another an hour, until it was so dark it was impossible to see anything and the damn headlights were so broken that they provided almost no illumination. They were in the middle of the desert located in the middle of nowhere surrounded by darkness.

Finally, the Dark Lord made the car move forward. Since he had so much problems with it at the beginning, he decided not to stop, since pressing the accelerator pedal was very easy and turning the wheel was even fun (he would not admit it to anyone under any circumstances). The stick was put to number two by the Mudblood, after which he slapped her hand away. Hermione merely sent him a glare, crossing her arms stubbornly.

Hermione didn't bother to correct Voldemort **again **that they had right-side traffic in America, just the opposite to Great Britain, so he "drove" on the line he liked the best at the moment. He ignored what seemed to be the mocking glances Granger sent his way, making a mental note to punish her for those when his magic had returned. One Crucio or something else more creative for every insolent action sounded just perfect in his ears.

Now, however, they were moving along on some lone highway, going 100 miles an hour in second gear. Hermione felt she needed earplugs for the ambient sound levels the engine produced. So, she'd tried and tried and tried to explain to her "chauffeur" (as she had started calling him in her mind mockingly) that he needed to shift gears. Something he replied to in his normal, gentle manner.

"Shut up, Granger! If moronic Muggles can do that, you think Lord Voldemort won't be able to? I'm driving."

The Dark Lord was also not in his calmest moods at the moment. Damned Muggle inventions. Who the hell thought of creating this shit can with three pedals and a fucking stick with numbers on it? The Mudblood rambled something about the clutch and how he must press one to change the gear and then use his other foot (that was too tangled in his robes) to press the accelerator. The numbers and the clutch annoyed him the most. Who said he had to choose number one on the stick to start moving? He liked other numbers, plus the R was nice as well. Maybe he could try that one later?

Besides the tremendous engine noise, there was a constant "boink, boink, boink, boink," which caused the car to shudder continuously. Finally, Hermione was fed up with it.

"Will you stop driving over the reflectors?" she hissed, irritated.

"What reflectors?"

Boink, boink, boink.

"The ones on the road, you know those they apply to the line for drivers who can't stay on the road," she sneered sarcastically.

Boink, boink, boink.

"I'm driving **on** the road, Mudblood, so shut up."

Boink, boink, boink.

"You're driving **on** the damn line, which is supposed to wake drivers who fall asleep and inform them to get **off** the line! Plus, it's causing the car to vibrate and will destroy your suspension."

"Lord Voldemort doesn't care about the destruction of Muggle shit," he hissed back.

Boink, boink, boink.

"Well, Lord Voldemort," she copied his arrogant tone of voice to perfection, which made his fingers clench around the steering wheel, envisioning it was the annoying woman's neck who was too bossy for her own good, "should care since it's our only transportation here."

He yanked the steering wheel rather abruptly and violently. Hermione sighed, not feeling up to another discussion about the proper use of the line in the centre of the road, which was now situated perfectly in the middle underneath the Vehicle. Apparently, his highness owned the road. Fortunately, nobody else was there.

For now.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a long, cold desert highway, deserted. Hermione feared what would happen when they were to reach the lights of the town in the distance. But it seemed to be night here, so nobody would be up, right?

Finally, Voldemort decided to pick a lane again: the left one.

"We're in the U.S.A.," Hermione said tiresomely. Again. "This lane is wrong."

"Lord Voldemort is always right."

"And that's where Lord Voldemort should be driving," Hermione deadpanned, pointing to the right lane.

A lone car's horn honked as its headlights came directly at them. At the very last moment, it quickly swerved to the other lane while its driver made rude, angry gestures towards them, showing exactly what he thought about Voldemort's driving with his middle finger.

The Dark Lord had his wand pointed over his shoulder at the poor man before realizing he couldn't do magic, and the lucky man escaped unharmed. Some furious ranting about Death, Houses with Rising Suns, Muggles and Mudbloods, Potters and Dumbledores and shitty cans that moved too slowly flowed out of Voldemort's mouth like a waterfall.

Hermione closed her eyes as they drove into town; the sign on the road flashed by: "**Anahuac**," "**Population: 2,210."**

Anahuac, what kind of name was that?

As they drove past the parked cars on the side of the roads, a screeching noise filled the air around them followed by a louder crash every other second when a side-view mirror was expertly demolished.

"Are you driving with your eyes open or are you using the Force?" Hermione inquired dryly, as the faded yellow paint on the truck got mixed with all sort of colors.

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. There was one car driving across the intersection in the distance that made Voldemort suspicious of its passengers. That sparkling bloke had hair as messy as Potter's, and that bitch sitting next to him had long, shiny, dancing hair like that witch Potter had fancied. There was also some insolent, stupid child in the back seat, looking extremely pleased with herself as if she was invincible, and ... NO, he wasn't taking any chances again.

No more Potter-like errors. So, he just pressed his favorite pedal to the floor (ignoring the terrified scream coming from the know-it-all next to him) and rammed into the car, smashing it completely. Despite her seatbelt (which was only worn by her since All-mighty Beings didn't feel they were required wearing one), Hermione still hit her head against the dashboard and didn't have the chance to disturb Voldemort from perfectly executing his plan.

It seemed that Death had given them a really nice car - shitty looking but like a Hummer. A flashy silver Volvo was nicely buried under the weight of his mighty transportation. With a pleased hum, Lord Voldemort drove past the remains of the car.

A male voice howled desperately through the air: "Nessie! My Lurve!"

Voldemort could swear he saw something furry running to the wreckage.

But nobody cared. Not Hermione, who'd hit her head before the crash and thus didn't have the chance to see the magnificent event produced and executed by the Dark Lord.

And certainly not Voldemort, who was pleased to finally be able to whack three-person-families without turning into vapor.

Death also hummed pleased at the result. Three more who'd always escaped her! It seemed Tommie-boy could be useful at times. That bitch Voldemort was doing a great job, Death thought.

"**Anahuac**," "**Population: 2,207**," the road sign mysteriously stated all of the sudden.

For a while, Voldemort enjoyed driving in silence - well, without the babbling of the interfering busybody next to him. The car was still howling, since it disagreed firmly with the rough treatment it was receiving.

Nice, quiet little Mudblood, just as he preferred her to be.

Annoying, screaming little Mudblood.

Hermione yelled loudly: "One way street! One way street!" as he took a right turn.

Exasperated, she looked at him. "That sign meant this is a one way street," she explained, scouting the area ahead of them with panicky wide eyes.

"No problem," Voldemort said calmly. Stupid little Mudblood. He was driving in one way.

And what were those idiot Muggles doing ahead of him?

Scared of the monstrous truck that had a sinister yellowish glow around it, the inhabitants of the cars coming towards Voldemort and Hermione tried to drive in reverse their hardest, but it was no use. The truck was soon functioning as a snowplow, piling up car after car after car in front of them.

"**Anahuac**," "**Population: 2,206 - 2,205 - 2,204 ... 2,181 ..." **The sign's numbers were rapidly decreasing.

Good, shitty truck, Voldemort thought happily, patting the dashboard with clear affection as he ditched the mountain of car-and-human-debris with another right turn. He'd not killed this many in one go since his killing spree in the seventies, and it made him feel all warm and tingly on the inside.

"Indicator," a tired voice commented.

But now, he no longer cared; he was actually aiming for the largest number of complaints he could get from her. That would mean he did something right: namely use Muggle shit in **his **way. Then, he wasn't behaving Muggle-ish but Voldemort-ish. He'd be himself. Nobody, not even Death, would take his identity away from him. Magic or no magic, Lord Voldemort was no Muggle.

Yessss, he'd always been good at excusing his hypocritical actions in his own special mind.

Hermione screamed again when Voldemort passed the traffic lights underneath the red light, while he cackled a bit upon hearing the screeching brakes and crashes behind him.

"**Anahuac**," "**Population: 2,155**."

She had explained the basic rules, the traffic lights, how to use reverse gear, how to turn signals and how to use the brakes. Now Hermione regretted wasting so much effort on something so pointless. Voldemort had his own driving "plan": drive in Lord Voldemort's style aka no rules besides his own.

She wanted to close her eyes, but she knew it would not help: Voldemort's driving was a roller coaster.

A deadly roller coaster, Hermione decided when the bastard got a kick from driving fast and without any rules, except for one: casualties obligatory.

He especially liked the pedestrians that would wander on abandoned roads somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

When they saw the first pedestrian standing on the offside of the road, both Hermione and Voldemort were ecstatic. Hermione wanted to know where they were and what time it was and said pedestrian could tell them; Voldemort wanted to know how many more casualties his new favorite toy could make. Guess who got his way?

A horrified scream and a maddening laugh were heard in the car when Voldemort quickly turned the wheel towards the pedestrian. Seconds later, the car moved over a bump which happened to be a now dead pedestrian.

"**Anahuac**," "**Population: 2,154**."

Hermione was shocked. Voldemort was even happier than before.

"Bonus point," the Dark Lord announced evilly, glancing gleefully at her.

Hermione just kept staring at him, not really knowing what to do. She couldn't kill him, since then she would turn into a Dementor. Shoving her conscience deeper into her mind, Hermione decided that Voldemort's driving and "attitude" would be the lesser of two evils compared to what her changing into a Dementor would do and how many souls she would steal. And maybe these people weren't even real, she excused herself. After all, this was some weird reality - a Death Reality.

"Additional bonus points," Voldemort suddenly declared while turning the wheel swiftly to the right and then swiftly to the left.

All Hermione managed to see, or better to say, feel, was four bumps which, she guessed, were now four more dead people.

"**Anahuac**," "**Population:** **2,150**."

A Death Reality indeed, she almost felt at home.

She was damned - that she was sure of. She didn't think it could get any worse when their radio switched on by itself.

Hermione screamed while Voldemort lost control of the car before returning back to the road while muttering almost gleefully "One more bonus point" ("**Anahuac**," "**Population:** **2,149**") and then looked at the working device.

What came out next made them both cringe and start trying to change the channels by randomly pushing the buttons.

"_There is a House in New Orleans_

_They call the Rising Sun"_

Both Voldemort and Hermione immediately pushed other buttons.

Hermione was first with number three channel.

"_A Duck walked up to a lemonade stand_

_And he said to the man running the stand_

_HEY"_

Before Hermione could listen to "The Duck Song" any further, Voldemort pressed another button. He was not going to listen to songs about a talking, walking duck. No way. However, he cringed when he heard the song playing on the station of his choice. Hermione just looked at him funnily.

"_No I can't forget this evening,_

_Or your face as you were leaving,_

_But I guess that's just the way the story goes…"_

The Dark Lord let go of the wheel, making the car turn left and hit another pedestrian ("**Anahuac**," "**Population:** **2,148**") while he quickly tried to switch the channel. He was so not going to listen to some sappy soap opera shit about love. Hermione frowned at the attempt to switch the channel, no longer that concerned about Voldemort's driving skills. Really, how many pedestrians were there on that damn road in the middle of nowhere and at night as well?

Should have stayed at home, she thought, annoyed that Voldemort turned off Mariah Carey's "Without You."

Normally, Hermione Granger would have been horrified by her thoughts and behavior, but that would be under normal circumstances. Now, however, everything was not normal, so she guessed she was a bit messed up in the head as well.

Voldemort grabbed the wheel again after pushing number five on the radio panel and both Hermione and the Dark Lord shivered - Hermione visibly, Voldemort undercover-inside.

A familiar voice greeted them from station five.

"And hellllo! How is life? Thank you for choosing 'Live Death FM' radio channel!"

_Dammit_, they both thought at the same moment. _Not her again._

"I'll be your DJ for now, so please enjoy my choice of music. I present to you - Iron Maiden with 'Dance of Death!' And just a small warning - should you switch me, you'll be stuck with the song you'll pick for the rest of the journey," Death warned them in her usual sweet voice and before Voldemort could start his new screaming campaign, Death already put the song to play.

_"…_

_Not aware of a presence so near to me_

_Watching my every move_

_Feeling scared and I fell on my knees_

_As something rushed me from the trees"_

Hermione and Voldemort glanced at each other in consideration. The song continued to play.

_"Took me to an unholy place_

_And that is where I fell from grace_

_Then they summoned me over to join with them_

_To the dance of the dead"_

The Dark Lord and Hermione glanced at each other once more before mutually agreeing to whatever fate had planned for them and pressed the number seven at the same time.

xxxx

Several hours later, when the sun was already rising in the horizon, Hermione had multiple bruises from the erratic driving manner of His Driveness, as she called Voldemort now, and could not keep herself from singing along to the song that had been playing nonstop since the moment they changed the creepy Death-chosen song.

_"Ra Ra_

_Uh Uh Uh_

_Rum-a Rum-a-a_

_Ga Ga_

_Ooh Lala"_

Hermione heard Voldemort mutter something that resembled "Rum-a-a," but was distracted by her own need to sing along.

"I want your love. Love-Love-Love. I want your love," Hermione sang along to the before unfamiliar tune.

xxxxxxxx

Voldemort's eyes were sore from the driving, his ears were sore because of the Granger's "singing," his brain was sore from "Ooh Lala" that he kept singing in his head and his whole body ached from sitting in the same position for so long in a very uncomfortable seat meant for midgets and not tall people like him.

When he was going to get his grip on Death, it will know what it meant to fuck with Lord Voldemort's magic and life in general.

It would be its turn to be afraid of him.

Immediately a red "E" with a symbol on the side - a little box that seemed to have a (Voldemort decided) snake coming out of it - appeared on one of the gauges in front of him. Deciding it was of no concern to Lord Voldemort since Muggles knew nothing about snakes, he drove on, until a shriek sounded beside him.

"A petrol station! Why are you driving on? The fuel gauge says empty!"

Oh, so that was what that sign was for. Determined not to show the Mudblood he hadn't known, he aimed at the two cyclers right before the roundabout, drove over them ("**Anahuac**," "**Population:** **2,146**"), circled the roundabout clockwise to the despair of anyone on it ("**Anahuac**," "**Population:** **2,127**"), and returned to the petrol station with a blank face, stating deviously: "It would be a shame to have left them out of my attention."

"Yeah, I'm sure they would've felt sad and excluded otherwise," Hermione said, while the car came to an abrupt halt against one of the pumps.

Deciding he didn't like the color of it, Voldemort finally found a reason to use his favorite **"R"** on the gear lever, and to Hermione's most sincere horror, they went backwards rather fast and erratic, taking down most of the station's pumps except for the lone, old one on the side, which had a hand-written card on it: "Out of order, danger, use other pump."

xxxxxx

While the Dark Lord and Hermione Granger continued their bickering and shouting match at the now useless gas station (one blaming the other and calling names), two lone figures sat on a bench in the middle of the desert.

"You are so mean to them," an old lady with a kind face scowled at the young woman who was sipping Coca-Cola from a red can.

"They deserved it. And _you _know it." The pretty young woman pointed her Coca-Cola can towards the old lady.

"I feel sorry for Hermione. She didn't deserve such punishment as being stuck with Tom," the old lady gently answered.

"Why won't you tell me when they finally die or give up?" the young one asked with a pouting expression on her pretty face.

"Because I don't know," the old lady replied in bored tone, as if used to this particular question.

"Liar! You know, you just don't want to tell me. You always know; you were the one that told me when and where Harry Potter was going to finally die!" the young lady raised her voice in frustration.

"I knew that, so I told you. And about those two, no one knows." The old lady turned face to face to the young woman. "Nobody can tell you, since no one knows," she said with confidence and irritation at the same time.

Young lady huffed and stood up, leaving the old lady sitting on the bench.

"Fine, but I still have them here. And if you say no one knows the outcome, I will take my leave. I have better things to do than sitting on a bench with an old hag, as I have been doing for the last several millenniums," the young woman said and, with a shake of her head, disappeared.

The old lady on the bench sighed and looked up into the illuminated by the rising sun sky.

"Oh dear. So old and still so naive," she said, talking to the sky. "Of course no one knows. What else did Death expected to hear from me?"

The old lady smiled and stood up from the bench. Straightening her light-blue shirt and long skirt, the old lady breathed in the humid air and once again looked at the rising sun.

"No one knows what will happen," she repeated again.

Suddenly, her old gentle face was illuminated by a mischievous grin when she looked at the spot where Death was huffing in irritation not so long ago.

"Besides me, of course!"

And with a laugh, Fate disappeared, taking her favorite bench with her.

A/N To be continued..


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N** Heya!

I updated my profile, so I won't spam here. Lucky you, uh?

**Nerys **and **Serp** beta-ed the chapter, after trying to hide from me for a whole day! I wonder why?...cries..So, send them cakes, not cookies this time.

Anyway, more crazy shit to come. Rating, as always, is "F". Oops, I mean "M".

Since a request to kill off Jacob came from **Serp**, **Nerys** (who wanted to accomplish that in the last chapter) and **PintoNess** then...here you go..wide smile

Also, **gsalilsecret** offered a great idea to use a Mercedes brand mark. Loved it.

Without any further rambling session, here is chapter ten. Enjoy.

**Chapter 10**

Empty road, some bushes nearby, no pedestrians and no cars—that was all Voldemort could see while walking towards the city with an angry Mudblood trailing behind him.

_At least she stopped her insane muttering, _Voldemort thought, moving faster simply to annoy the damn Granger wench.

Hermione Granger was beyond pissed. Never in her entire life had anyone managed to drive her to that state of maddening annoyance and frustration. That damn-him-to-hell Lord Voldemort managed to destroy all the working gas stations, thus making it impossible to fuel the car. And while Hermione sneaked around, leaving him alone just for five minutes, that moron managed to fuel the car. With 95 petrol. Which he found in some huge canister that appeared out of nowhere.

Now, they couldn't even start the car without blowing up the engine, and Voldemort actually had the nerve to blame Hermione for everything **he** had done.

Rubbing her still sore cheek, Hermione thought back to the moment Voldemort actually lost it and hit her. She hit him back as always, but it still hurt.

_"Nooooo!" Hermione shrieked when she saw the amused Dark Lord filling the diesel truck with 95 petrol._

_"Stupid Mudblood," he muttered gleefully, while adding more and more 95 petrol to a car that needed only diesel. "Lord Voldemort always succeeds, while Mudbloods always fail"._

_Understanding the implication of using petrol instead of diesel, Hermione couldn't hold the frustration inside her any longer._

_"You are a donkey! A stupid, bigoted donkey with monkey brains!" Hermione shrieked at the somewhat astonished Dark Lord._

What the fuck_, Voldemort thought, looking at the approaching Mudblood who resembled an angry lion under some crazy potion's influence. He did what he knew was right. He'd found some shitty canister with "Fuel" written on it and emptied it into the car. He'd done something useful, unlike that rat's bush who merely eyed the entire neighborhood as if she was looking for a place to rent._

_"First, you drugged us and made me do filthy, disgusting things. Then, you bring that damned riddle box that took us here, where we have Death, not some fluffy rabbit, but __**Death**__ trailing behind us and playing games, while taking our magic away!" Hermione took a deep breath and before Voldemort could interrupt her, she went on, "You took the driving seat and drove like the madman you actually are, all the while killing huge amount of people who did nothing to you. And then, you destroyed our last chance to get to that unknown city where we could at least find some clues about our whereabouts!"_

Now, because of that moron who called himself the Dark Lord, they were walking by foot with sore cheeks, and it seemed to Hermione they had a long journey ahead before they reached the city.

Voldemort caught sight of something furry in the dark bushes, and it looked rather familiar, almost exactly like the one that appeared when he whacked that shiny car with a family of three with his now unreachable toy.

Howling.

Both Voldemort and Hermione shivered as they thought of that same creature, lurking somewhere in the dark.

_Not a werewolf, please_, Hermione begged silently.

Two hours later, they were still walking, and Hermione felt ready to drop dead. She was beyond tired. She had a feeling that Voldemort wouldn't mind resting as well; however, she was sure he would never admit it.

Just as Hermione was about to open her mouth and express her feelings, bright headlights illuminated the road: another lonely car was moving their way.

Both Voldemort and Hermione tried to get a ride to the city, but none of the few passing cars stopped to help them.

Hermione wondered what exactly stopped the drivers from giving them a lift: Voldemort's outfit, Voldemort's spooky red eyes shining in the dark that made him resemble the devil (which he was), or Voldemort in total.

She tried to kick him into the bushes so that she could be the one to catch the eyes of the drivers, but Voldemort was Voldemort and shoved her into the bushes, stating that her hair blended well with the nature.

So, all the cars that passed by either just sped up when they saw the Mighty Lord in a dark cloak with shining red eyes, or started swaying on the road, trying to drive as far away from them as possible.

For a second, Hermione thought that she should've let Voldemort smash the whole damn city with his toy. Damn uncooperative Americans just leaving them stranded. However, when a brand-new Ferrari stopped a few steps ahead of them, Hermione felt relieved she hadn't.

_Finally, someone to help them out!_ Hermione thought happily, getting into the car just after Voldemort who was the first to climb right into the front passenger's seat.

A very handsome man sat in the driver's seat: neat blond hair, green eyes and a nice smile.

"So, fellows, lost, eh?"

He also had a very nice voice, Hermione decided. And before her companion could destroy their only chance of getting out of here, Hermione started a conversation with the man.

"Thank you so much, sir. Our car broke down," (here, she glared at Voldemort's back), "and we couldn't get out of here," Hermione answered sincerely. "For some reason, no one would stop and give us a ride. Would you maybe know why? Is there something wrong with this place?" _Or one of us_, she sneered mentally.

"Nothing is wrong, darling. Just some stupid motherfuckers who don't care about others, I guess," the stranger replied and even smirked for a second.

Voldemort, who'd kept quiet for so long (for him that is), decided to interrupt, staring with his spooky eyes at the young man. "And you are not a motherfucker then? Why did you stop?"

_Here we go again_, Hermione thought, annoyed. Even without his magic, in a world of the unknown, Voldemort still managed to pull off his "Dark Lordish" persona. Demanding, giving orders, killing …

When he looked back at Voldemort and then at Hermione, there was something in the stranger's eyes that caught both Voldemort's and Hermione's attention, something weird: calculating, knowing, and mischievous at the same time.

"Neeh, I am a good guy. Plus, such a lovely couple," (the stranger ignored the double shiver of disgust from his new companions at that word), "out here, all alone …Naah, can't have that, can we? I am A Derision's Moo Rum Yon, after all!"

_Dear Merlin, another psycho_, Hermione thought in desperation.

_Dear Salazar, another moronic Muggle._ Voldemort gritted his teeth and vowed to show Death what it meant to piss off a Dark Lord. He needed a Crucio, just one, just a tiny little Crucio. Pretty pleeeease? Maybe two, he thought, glancing at the worried Mudblood.

"Ah, emm … what a nice name," Hermione finally managed to blurt out, while Voldemort just snorted in derision.

"I am Hermione Granger and this is…" at Voldemort's name Hermione paused, not sure how to call him here.

"Lord Voldemort," the Dark Lord deadpanned without even blinking.

"Cool name, Lordy! Nice to meet y'all!" The stranger reacted as if he'd expected to hear that and not some "John Smith."

"So, Moo Rum, where is the nearest city?" the Dark Lord asked mockingly, as if he were talking to a retard.

The stranger with the weird name smirked.

"There are three cities nearby. Which one do you need?"

While Hermione thought about what options they had, Voldemort managed to piss the driver off for a while with his normal "Voldemortish" reply.

"Lord Voldemort does not **need **anything, moron."

All Hermione had left to do was: roll her eyes and smack the seat of the smart-ass.

The car was going around 100 km/hour at that point and this driver, unlike somebody else, could navigate the car without a problem.

In the rear mirrors, a light appeared. Voldemort and Hermione looked back to see a flashy Mercedes closing the distance. Even though Voldemort knew nothing about cars, he didn't like the sign on this one, which looked like it marked a target up ahead. And **He **was the only one allowed doing any targeting. Plus, all they'd seen before were some shitty trucks (like theirs had been), but here they had two brand-new cars: one black Ferrari and one red Mercedes. He remembered the brand names, because the Mudblood kept rambling about them, while he was driving.

Something was off, it was clear to both the Dark Lord and Hermione Granger. Yet, it did not seem to disturb their new driver.

"Emm. Mr. Moor Rum Yon," Hermione started tentatively. "It just might be my imagination, but isn't there a Mercedes just behind us, as if trying to catch us? I know I sound paranoid, but…"

"Ah, no worries, my darling Hermione. You are not paranoid, as there is indeed a car chasing after us," the stranger answered calmly as if stating that was an every day event. Well, maybe it was in this crazy realm of rising suns?

"So you know who is driving that car?" Voldemort inquired. Dammit, all they needed was another shit-head chasing after them. They already had Death, thank you very much, and it was more than enough.

The silence in the car was interrupted by a loud tune coming from the driver's mobile phone, where an ugly old trashcan was displayed as the caller's picture.

_"Hello, hello baby you called?_  
_I can't hear a thing_  
_I have got no service_  
_In the club, you see, see"_

When the driver didn't even make a move to take the call, the two passengers were forced to listen to the continuation of the tune selected for that specific caller. A persistent caller, it seemed.

"_Stop callin', stop callin',_  
_I don't wanna think anymore!_  
_I left my head and my heart on the dance floor."_

Hermione thought the tune was great and the singer really resembled the one they had to listen to for several hours non-stop.

The driver did not seem to notice the vibrating mobile device that was now screaming a loud tune.

"_Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh_  
_Stop telephonin' me!_  
_Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh_  
_I'm busy!_  
_Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh_  
_Stop telephonin' me!_  
_Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh"_

"Will you just pick up that damn thing, or are your deaf?" Voldemort had to scream to overpower the noise level.

The stranger just groaned and picked up the phone.

_"Is that you, bitch? What the hell?"_ Voldemort and Hermione heard a female voice roaring into the phone.

Hermione felt sorry for the young man; maybe it was his girlfriend or bride?

Voldemort merely smirked.

"Can't hear youuuuu," Mr. Moor Yon sang back into the mobile phone, annoyingly pronouncing all the words in a sing-song voice.

_"I know you can hear me, you old shit! What the hell are you doing? I told you before, they are ..."_

"I can't hear a thing. Stop telephoning me!" The driver shouted back and pressed the "Power Off" button on the phone. "So, where were we? Ah, yes. The driver of the Mercedes. It's an old _friend_, you could say, of mine." At the word "friend," the stranger grimaced. "Annoying bitch, if you ask me. Always asking things she shouldn't be asking. And then, she even tries to mock me, can you imagine that?" Mr. Moor Rum Yon continued, amused.

"Oh yes, I can imagine that," Voldemort and Hermione said at the same time.

Voldemort was thinking that this bitch in the red Mercedes resembled the Mudblood, while Hermione was sure a clone of Voldemort was behind the wheel. Hermione's choice seemed more viable since the Mercedes didn't mind hitting things … or people.

Their driver just smiled at them knowingly. He didn't seem concerned at all. So, the Ferrari kept speeding towards the towns with the Mercedes trailing behind, unable to catch up.

Hermione was sipping some orange juice that Mr. Rum Yon had offered her before he decided to continue their conversation.

"Newlyweds?" the stranger inquired merrily.

Voldemort, who was eating an apple, choked on it; Hermione had juice in her nose after her coughing fit.

"I guess not," their driver continued in the same, irritating upbeat tone of voice. "Friends?"

After another violent coughing fit in which both of them nearly suffocated, Voldemort and Hermione came to the conclusion that someone was having fun on their behalf.

"Oh, well, we all have our secrets, don't we?" The stranger winked at them.

_Too much fun._

Voldemort had always believed and relied on his intuition, and now it was screaming at him. Something was very wrong.

"Sooo … What city?" their driver asked when the car arrived at a crossroad and stopped. Three roads were visible up ahead, all of them heading into different directions.

The Dark Lord and Hermione both looked at the names of the cities they could choose from, while a red Mercedes merrily became bigger in the rear-view mirror: "A Bedside Wept Hills," "Pathway Biped Hell" or "Ethicise Unholy Link Woos Woo" .

When Hermione started to resemble an owl with huge unblinking eyes, Voldemort shook her.

"What is it, Mudb…Hermione?" the Dark Lord demanded to know, after Hermione kept staring at the signs. Also, he decided to refer to her as Hermione as long as they were accompanied by someone strange. The Dark Lord was not paranoid. Never. He was cautious. Yes, that was it: cau-ti-ous - you never knew where Death could be hiding. He was sure that bitch was watching them closely.

Hermione finally came back to the real world after another major shake coming from Voldemort and turned to the driver, who was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and glaring at the rear-view mirror at the same time.

"I thought we were in Texas, USA. Right?" Hermione asked, still trying to process the names of the cities. Never, not even in the wizarding world, had she heard such names like these.

"Well, yes, we are, Hermione. Why?" the stranger asked in calm voice, but even Hermione could hear the erupting laughter coming from inside him.

So, it was only natural that a certain someone else was clenching his fists, trying to control his temper, wishing for three Crucios. Only three. He didn't need any more. Just three. Three wonderful, nice, relaxing Crucios. One for insipid Death, one for obnoxious Mudblood and one for Moobly Oobly Something. A deep sigh left the Dark Lord's throat.

_Three Crucios wasn't too much to ask, was it?_ he considered as one obnoxious target was speaking again.

"The names. It is impossible to have such names in Texas. Where are we?" Now Hermione was really suspicious.

"We are in Texas, Hermione Jean," Mr. Moor Rum Yon replied. "Words mean little, it's the meaning behind them that means everything," he continued, glancing at Voldemort.

Hermione's and the Dark Lord's gazes connected for a second before focusing on the stranger.

"And also, you should remember that not only words open the souls but numbers as well." The stranger continued his puzzled speech under scrutinizing glares from both travelers.

Being seated in the back of the car, Hermione just had to stretch out her hand, while Voldemort, seated in the front, just had to find the correct moment.

"Plus, you should trust the Dark from time to time, Hermione. It may help you out."

"It may help **you out**," Hermione answered calmly, before quickly stretching forward and opening the driver's door from behind.

"Out!" Voldemort barked and shoved the stranger out of the car with his foot.

It took mere seconds for Voldemort to take the driver's seat and Hermione to fasten her seatbelt, before they were speeding towards the city that they both liked the most: "Ethicise Unholy Link Woos Woo".

It seemed that having an automatic transmission car made Voldemort a great driver.

xxxxx

The stranger stood up from the ground just in time for the red Mercedes to stop a hair's width away from his pants.

A beautiful female slammed the door shut and marched towards the rugged man.

"I knew it! I felt something was wrong. I should've known from the beginning you were going to meddle. I knew it! And you, you bitch, also knew it!" she screamed non-stop, frustrated beyond imagination.

It was her domain, and she ruled it. But nooooo, that bitch had to come and meddle with her plans. Now, both her toys were moving towards the direction of the exit, and thanks to whom? Yes, her. Or him, as she was a he at the moment.

Death glared at Fate before marching back to the car and driving away.

_I like my long skirts better_, Fate thought amused, while scratching her butt. _Voldemort's a pain in the ass for sure, and Hermione's no better. Still, I got them working together: Fate rules!_

Fate finally changed back to her favorite look - an old lady in a long skirt - and took out an old notebook from her pocket. Opening the notebook on the **"Will Get"** list, Fate happily put two pluses near two lonely names on the page:

_"Hermione Jean Granger" +_  
_"Tom Marvolo Riddle" +_

xxxxx

"Who the hell was it? Was it _her_?" Hermione asked the Dark Lord as soon as they sped away from the weird guy.

_If it were a person at all_, Hermione thought angrily. Damn realm with damn rules.

For some reason, after kicking the stranger out of his car, Hermione and the Dark Lord seemed to get along much better. Both Hermione and Voldemort saw how effective their combined efforts could be. Plus, they couldn't get separated if they wanted to escape a "dementorish," as Hermione started to refer to it, future.

It was a hard deal, but a deal nevertheless. They were a team whilst being **in** the House of the Rising Sun. And after they got out of there …? Well, it all depended on where they found themselves next.

_No escaping some Crucios_, Hermione thought angrily, while Voldemort thought the same but on a happy note.

"No, it wasn't Death. I can smell the bitch. It was something else," Voldemort replied, pressing the accelerator. This car was much easier to navigate, and he liked it, even though he hadn't managed to cause havoc with it … _yet_.

"Something else that knew my middle name," Hermione added bitterly. "What is wrong with this reality? We have Death chasing after us, some red Mercedes with possibly more morons inside, and then,_ it_, that knows everything and talks in riddles. Trust the Dark, Hermione," she mimicked the stranger.

Voldemort smirked. He actually enjoyed the Mudblood's sharp tongue when it was not directed at him. And he also had a feeling he knew which moron was inside that red Mercedes, but he so wasn't sharing that with Babble Granger. Not in case he was wrong—of course not, since Dark Lords were never wrong—no, because Lord Voldemort just didn't share anything. Period.

Suddenly, the Dark Lord saw a shape in the bushes, and it seemed to be the exact one that had been howling, and now, it was chasing after them. It appeared to be a hobby of the people living in this place: following him. Not that he wasn't used to **that**. Just not in this manner.

The Dark Lord already knew what he was going to do, but just for the fun of it, he decided to ask the Mudblood.

"Granger, we have a wolf or a werewolf trailing after us. What do you suggest, partner?" he asked mockingly.

"A what? Not that, please," Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance, "and why would it chase after us?"

"Ah. It may have something to do with the 'Three-for-one' _accident,_" Voldemort tragically pronounced.

"Which one?" A tired reply was all he got from the Mudblood.

"What? No ranting, mumbling, screaming about me killing somebody?" The Dark Lord was genially intrigued now. _Funny Mudblood._

"What's the point? It's the same as telling the dog not to bark. No, wait. _That _would actually be more successful."

A really funny Mudblood. Maybe not everything was lost yet?

"So, my way or my way?" the Dark Lord more stated than asked, while moving the car closer to the bushes.

Ferrari versus werewolf? This was a sport's car, not a Hummer with a cow rack at front. Now Hermione was certain **He** was overconfident. As if she didn't have enough proof of that before. She recalled several of his overly complicated, failing schemes in the past and could barely hold in a condescending snigger.

"Just do it already."

Hermione Granger hated Voldemort and hated killing, but this damned reality was not normal. Better off without any werewolves, Deaths, or whatever they had chasing after them, _if_ the car survived the crash. She knew there was no point in informing Mr. Petrol-Is-Better-Than-Diesel-Enthusiast of this. So, Hermione decided not to bother looking at the target, too busy reading a booklet left by Moosie Woosie Something. Besides, she could care less at the moment, as they were in a Ferrari with a crumple zone, airbags, roll bar, seatbelts, and other safety features—luxuries a werewolf did not have.

"Hmmm... It says Hold 'em Up," Hermione read out loud to Voldemort, who now had the target locked. "It's a version of Poker, and for some reason, that _thing_ left it here, opened on the page labeled 'Best escapes from reality.'"

At that, Hermione glared at Voldemort, annoyed at the crash that interrupted her thoughts and the swaying the car did afterwards. She couldn't read like that. She'd get nauseated. Stupid Lords should move in a straight line while driving.

_Smash. There. No more creepy wolves_, Voldemort thought, amused.

_So much for the nice paint job and the left headlight_, Hermione thought, less amused.

An elegant lady in red Mercedes, that was catching up with the travelers yet maintained a discrete distance behind some truck, also happily hummed. Minus one shifter-pedophile. Death really could not understand how Voldemort managed to kill all those she was after. Maybe he was supposed to take over and become Death? At that thought, she shivered… No, thank you very much. He was creepy and dangerous as hell enough without her kind of power.

She had to catch them before they escaped, since she was not sure if they were going to stay in the realms of the House of the Rising Sun. But where to stop them? _Those two _could very well get back home, especially since that bitch Fate had been giving them a lift. Fortunately, the fools had kicked out the "help," so Death felt she was back in the game. Winning. As always. As she should be.

"As I was saying," Hermione continued as if never interrupted by a hit-and-run, "it says, '_Best escapes from reality_.' Do you think it means the exit?"

Hermione was biting her lip to stop the excitement she felt. They could have found the way out! Everywhere was better than here, she decided. Even with Voldemort ruling, it was a better world than this shithole. Not much, but enough. At least there, he was the only irritating smug bastard.

"What else does it say?" Voldemort steadied the car on the road, now picking the correct lane, since he did not fancy walking to a city again.

"Let's see… There are marks." Hermione jumped in her seat, making Voldemort—the almighty driver—sway to the left.

"What?" he barked at the exited Hermione.

"It says, _'Go to __**Can Road Sing**__ and let the dark play.'_ What the hell is that suppose to mean?" Hermione shrieked. "Let the dark play?"

"Whatever it was that we met, it was on our side, Mudblood," Voldemort replied after being quiet for some time.

"Why?"

"The name. His name. I've been thinking it over and over, and it's an anagram," Voldemort answered, all the while scouting for pedestrians. "Like myself—I know you know, so be quiet—he used an anagram. Since I am smarter than you and used the spare time usefully instead of barking up the wrong tree, I thought how the letters arranged themselves, and I found _the meaning _he was talking about. Do you remember his full name, Granger?"

Hermione rubbed her face and tiredly recalled the moronic name the stranger gave them.

"A Derision's Moo Rum Yon," Hermione answered, once again proving to Voldemort that she was indeed a worthy toy, or _partner_ here. Though, he wasn't planning on using the latter word anywhere else but here and only for some time anyway.

"Rearrange the letters and you'll get **'I am on your side, morons.'** Whatever it was, it called us morons, so I suppose it wasn't really that smart." Especially the nerve of that _thing_ … calling him a moron, the audacity! Maybe four Crucios wasn't too much to hope for? Two for that—that … whatever it was. Yesss, two very long, extended Crucios.

Hermione was quite annoyed that Voldemort managed to solve the puzzle so quickly and, more importantly, faster than she could even think about it, but she did respect the man for his genius mind. His crazy, motherfucking, twisted, genius mind. No wonder he solved the stupid puzzle before her—it took one to know one.

"What else then?" Hermione asked quickly. Yet, before the Dark Lord could open his mouth to reply, she interrupted him with a loud shriek. "The towns!"

Hermione grabbed a pencil and paper and wrote the names down. After getting annoyingly stupid answers, she finally got two correct ones and showed them to Voldemort.

_'A Bedside Wept Hills'_ - _**Death will be pissed**_

_'Pathway Biped Hell' - __**Death will be happy**_

"Where the hell did we go to?" Hermione asked nervously, wondering what else insane Death "will be." Over the moon with joy? Sad? Emo? A new person? Crying? Furious? She had no idea, since she was unable to solve the last anagram. She had never tried creating ones, so it was difficult to solve them as well; it took a "practised eye" to get the answer quickly and effortlessly.

Voldemort smoothly managed to park the car in the middle of the road, not bothering to drive to the designated areas. Quietly, he stared at the last town's name: the one where they were heading.

He groaned. No way in hell! What was this damned place? Some kind of let's-play-and-fuck-around-with-HIS-almighty-persona realm?

"What?" Hermione asked very carefully, seeing his reaction.

The Dark Lord wished for the millionth time that he had a working wand, or just wandless magic, so he could beautifully spell it out to the Mudblood, since apparently, he had to for every brainless Gryffindor out there.

"It says '_Ethicise Unholy Link Woos Woo,'_ which means: _**I know you will choose this one**_."

Hermione felt a cold shiver run down her spine. What the hell? Not possible. However, considering where they were … So, she did the same thing as Voldemort. She groaned.

xxxxx

They were finally in the city. Now, all they had to do was find _**Can Road Sing, **_which in fact was Grand Casino. Hermione proudly proclaimed herself the winner on that one, since Voldemort was seconds behind.

Standing near the entrance to the casino, Hermione remembered the words the strange _it_ told her: "Trust the dark." What was she supposed to do? "Trust the dark" as in bet on black or on the delusional, in-desperate-need-of-psycho-analysing wonder standing next to her? And numbers?

A male voice echoed through the casino, making both Hermione and Voldemort grimace.

"And now, our final round of the competition! The ones who last the longest win! We are counting the minutes, everyone, so be prepared!" the voice boomed.

The crowd cheered loudly in response.

_Idiotic, too happy Muggles, the lot of them_, the Dark Lord decided. _As if they stand a chance against ME in whatever the hell this competition is._

Hermione's analytical mind came to a horrible conclusion when she looked around. Oh no. No, no, no, no. Happy couples, happy couples, and again, happy couples. No, no, no, no, no. This couldn't possibly be … No, no, no, no, no. Happy couples embraced each other, and Hermione dropped her head and groaned when she realised it was indeed:

A kissing competition.

"For fuck's sake." She heard Voldemort proclaim before she felt his arms around her waist.

"No, no, no," Hermione ranted non-stop. She was so not going to enter a competition that entailed her kissing Voldemort for minutes if not hours. "No, no, no, no."

_Numbers. Trust the dark_, Hermione heard an echo of the words said by the stranger. So, she had to trust the _Dark Lord _to kiss her to oblivion? Definitely not.

"No, no, no, no."

And because the Dark Lord always responded extremely kind, considerate and with other people's feelings in mind, no it was.

Yeah, riiiight, think again.

"No, no, no, normmmm."

When she felt his lips on her own, sucking and pulling, Hermione decided she could always hit him for ignoring her wishes later. Because she definitely didn't want to do this. No sireee. She was only accommodating him because she had a competition to win. And she wanted out of this shithole. Yep, that was it. Nothing else. It wasn't like he was a good kisser. No, that definitely had nothing to do with the matter. Nothing at all.

xxxxx

Death slammed her head on the steering wheel of her Mercedes when she saw her toys kissing. They found an escape, but not from the House of the Rising Sun. They were only going to another world, thank heaven. Another one of her worlds, Death thought happily and turned the radio on.

Fate smiled in satisfaction. Good, they had chosen another world. A more "Fateful" world. Very good indeed.

xxxxx

A white light illuminated the two kissing figures that appeared out of nowhere in the small village. As soon as they landed, the Dark Lord and Hermione stepped away from each other as if stung by a bee and looked around.

They could feel it. Oh joy! Magic was there. Hermione just knew what was coming next. However, before Voldemort pulled his wand out, several wands were pointed directly at them.

"What are you doing on the Dark Lord's property?" one of the masked men demanded.

_The Dark Lord? Finally, I am somewhere home,_ Voldemort thought, relieved.

"What Dark Lord?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

Voldemort glared at her for being so stupid, since naturally, there was only one true Dark Lord in existence in the entire universe and beyond. But when he heard the answer, he wished he was back in their last dimension.

"Lord Threats Major Pyre, of course," the masked figure answered.

An abrupt hiss came from Voldemort.

Hermione turned her head in surprise. "You know him?" she whispered quietly. She'd never heard of any major pyre threats before, be that lords or otherwise.

"Yes, I know him, and you do, too," Voldemort hissed before continuing. "That little shit couldn't even create his own name. Had to use my technique, that little sneaky fuck."

"Who?" a completely unaware Hermione asked The Dark Lord.

It was good to be somewhere familiar, she thought **before** she saw the swift movement of Voldemort's wand.

Fiery letters formed_** Threats Major Pyre, **_then, rearranged themselves into _**Harry James Potter.**_

A loud, mocking snort escaped Hermione's lips as she glanced gleefully at her companion, knowing his archenemy was still alive in this world, until she realised this basically meant Harry was Him.

"Oh shit," Hermione stated out loud, staring at the flaming letters.

"Couldn't agree more," a voice said from behind.

When the two of them turned around to see the stranger, Voldemort would've had a heart attack, if he were mortal and had a heart, and Hermione was ready to faint.

There, a few feet away, stood Harry James Potter with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead and red eyes only partially hidden by his round glasses.

xxxx

A/N2 To be continued...I always loved those AU stories...grins


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N **This chapter is not beta-ed. I wanted to post it on Monday, but I couldn't because Fate didn't want to cooperate.

Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!

I know I should change the genre to Humor, but I will need Angst and Drama as well...Which one do I throw out? Sobs...I need all three of them.

**Beautiful-Liar13**- no problemo :) As you wish :) But in the next chapter. Grins

This chapter has lots and lots of new characters (just for fun), so there won't be much of Voldemort or Hermione. However Death and Fate have major roles in this chapter.

P.S If **Serp** has the time and I beg her till she agrees, then maybe this chapter will be beta-ed and I'll just replace it.

Also, THOTRS stands for The House of The Rising Sun.

I meant to post it on Monday, but as I couldn't, then I post it now. Better later than never, right, **Nerys**? HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

**Chapter 11**

_**Three hours before Voldemort's and Hermione's arrival.**_

Harry Potter was having a shitty day. Well, all his days could be called shitty, in his opinion, as the world they lived in sucked. Sucked, sucked, sucked, Harry repeated in his mind.

"Fiendfyre," Harry screamed while pointing his wand towards a tiny broom closet. As soon as the flames of the spell engulfed the old brooms, Harry felt better. He could see the flames of fire crawling on to the heavy curtains and wooden floor and it felt gooood. Nothing felt better than unstoppable curse fire spreading its wings like a Phoenix and flying all around the place.

"Yay!" the Pyromaniac screamed in joy and started to scratch his forehead with all his might. He liked scratching his forehead, sometimes his arms or legs, while everything burned around him.

"Fuuuuun," Harry laughed. Then pouted as the spell ended abruptly and all the flames vanishes leaving only smoke behind. Crying softly Harry cast a small _Incendio_ on the curtains, but after two minutes, the curtains were in complete order and his flames were nowhere to be seen.

The Potter heir cried- his magic was so unstable that he couldn't even continue with the spell that was supposed to be unstoppable and then even moronic small fire also vanished. It just sucked.

"Suuuuucked," he roared into an empty room. "Su-su-su-suckkeeedddd," he repeated just to be sure he heard it right. Yes, he could hear himself and with that happy thought Harry James Potter laughed.

Shaking his head back and forth ten times, Harry went to the basement of his manor to see if his previous doings were successful, or if he had fucked up again.

Upon entering his laboratory where lots of different things were floating in the air, Harry James Potter laughed. Finally! His most precious experiment paid off. Grabbing something remotely resembling a bubble gum- but he wasn't sure and, to tell the truth, didn't care-, Harry shoved it into his mouth and jumped up the stairs to inform his companions that he had succeeded at last. His best friend would be so happy!

xxxxxxx

Death stood on an edge of a mountain overlooking the manor and the surroundings.

"What the fuck?" she voiced her thoughts when she understood that something was definitely off.

_**This **_was _**not **_where her toys were supposed to end up after escaping the first realm. They were supposed to go the Palladian Galaxy, not _**here.**_ What was this place anyway? Death felt shiver run down her spine as she could feel with her immortal being that she held no power what so ever in this world. Impossible.

'_Must have been that old hag again,'_ Death thought now angrily frustrated and little, just a tiny bit scared.

xxxxxxx

Fate looked around and frowned. Death must really be annoyed with her if she decided to send them all to this place; a place where Fate has never been before. And, with horror, she felt that all her powers were non-existent. Impossible.

xxxxxx

Ten minutes later, after climbing down the mountain and scratching her hands and legs plus tearing her wonderful designer dress (not even speaking about her favorite pumps), Death saw the person she felt was responsible for her shitty look.

"You!" Death screamed when she saw an old lady in a walking distance.

When the old lady turned and with angry glare started to march towards somewhat astonished young woman, Death felt that something was wrong. Again.

"You stupid designer-lover cow! You are completely insane, you moronic bitch! I tolerate your rambling, whining, bitching and all other stuff that flies from that ancient mount of yours, but this!, " at that point Fate moved her hands as if showing the surroundings, "this is beyond boundaries. What the hell have you done, you shithead?" Fate continued her frustrated screaming, angelic old wrinkled face turning into an angry mask.

Now Death was really scared. It seemed that Fate had nothing to do with their current predicament.

If _Fate_ didn't know where they were and what the hell was going on, then they were fucked.

Fate came to the same realization upon seeing the genuine horror on Death's face.

"If we have no power over this place, then who does?" Fate whispered to Death who was now holding Fate's hand in a death grip.

"I do," a squeaky voice said from behind.

Fate and Death, still embraced in horror, turned around to witness a small child, not older than ten years old, seating on an elephant and chewing on a tree branch. After biting a huge part of the tree, the girl swallowed it and using her small hand pushed some leaves after the tree part, deeper into her throat.

"What the fuck are you?" both Fate and Death asked in unison. They have seen so many weird things and knew many different gods in their looong lives, but **that**? Never. However, as both Death and Fate took a closer look…

The child- a girl with curly blond hair and pitch black eyes- stared at them for a moment before she started to laugh hysterically, crying at the same time.

Fate and Death watched in horror as the small girl fell from her elephant, hitting the road with her head, all the while laughing.

"Please tell me it's not **it**," Death begged Fate quietly, "and I promise I'll behave for a millennium".

"Please tell **me** that it's not what I think it is and **I** will behave for the next millennium," Fate whispered back.

No way in hell were they going anywhere that _**thing**__, _Fate thought all the way taking small steps back. They had to run and definitely no touching that kid! That was a big NO-NO!

"Will you hug meeee?" the child whined while crawling towards the two females that increased their pace in stepping back.

"You are supposed be locked up! We all know that you are in a cell deep down in Limbo!" Fate screamed at the child that now sat on the road with its hand deep down its throat.

"Grhrhf," the girl mumbled.

"What? Speak normally, we don't understand you!" Death was always the bravest of them all.

Fate though, just for a second, that Death would have been sorted into Gryffindor, had she attended Hogwarts.

"Me said, me met a friend and gagagaga. Boom, droom, vroom!" the child giggled while poking its own eye with a stick.

"What?" Fate whispered horrified. No, no, no, no! It was impossible. This shit was locked up for good. No way!

"I said," the child sat straight now and in a perfect male voice continued, "that while _yes,_- I was locked up by you all SHITHEADS-, Harry wanted a friend. He was so lonely and considering his magical power, he managed to drag me from my lovely room in FUCK KNOWS WHERE," the child roared the last words all the while glaring with its horrible black eyes with no white in them at all.

The girl coughed a bit and went on, speaking in childish voice again. "Harry Potter wanted a friend and he got me. I have been with him since he was five", the girl whispered and then suddenly laughed.

"Don't touch it!" Fate hissed at Death.

"I am not stupid!" Death hissed back irritated. Like she would even _think_ of touching the kiddo. Neva eva!

"Pleeease, be my friends and hug me," the girl continued and started crawling towards the two females; all the while twisting her legs so that they came in from of her hands in a very creepy way.

"On the count of three," Death very quietly whispered to Fate who nodded her head in agreement.

"Three!" Death screamed and ran, tugging the still counting Fate.

The girl stopped her crawling and stood up.

Bitches, the girl thought. Harry was supposed to give her two new toys from the House of the Rising Sun, however, she got four instead.

Ohhh, the possibilities, the girl thought happily before breaking her own hand and laughing.

If Death and Fate were to become his friends, then…..

A booming laugh erupted from an old man that was a child only seconds ago.

xxxxxxxx

After running for what seemed an eternity, the two ladies stopped to catch their breath. Immortal or not, but running long distances was definitely not their forte.

"I thought it was impossible to escape _**that**_ prison," Death said to Fate who was sitting near some bushes.

"It _**is**_ impossible," Fate answered all the while fanning her face with palm leaves. She didn't even want to question what palms were doing in Great Britain after seeing who ruled that place.

"Then what is _**it**_ doing _**out**_?" Death was scared beyond belief. She had no power over the residents of this realm, even thought the said realm was within the boundaries of The House of The Rising Sun. Additionally, she was way too afraid to come face to face with _**it**_ again.

Sure, there were many other creatures -or gods and goddesses-, as they preferred to call themselves, besides Death and Fate. Many of those were close friends of theirs, but _**that**_ thing- it was a god that no one wanted to be around. The last one that tried was _**Innocence**_.

And the last time Death saw her, she was dancing naked in some trashy strip club all the while drinking vodka mixed with tequila and swearing so perfectly that Death even took some notes.

"Well, according to our coordinates, we are still in the House of the Rising Sun. And I honestly had no clue what so ever that _**it**_ would be here. Otherwise I would be having fun in Disney Land, and not being stuck here," in a tired voice Fate explained.

Suddenly, Fate was staring into the round eyes of Death, their noses almost touching. "Say what? Did I hear you say 'stuck'?"

"Yes, my darling, we are stuck in here as long as Tom and Hermione are. They were thrown in here, even though they were not supposed to, and we followed. So, we are stuck as long as they are".

Fate felt sorry for Death who seemed ready to cry.

"We could, however, call for some backup," Fate offered the still sobbing Death.

As soon as Death heard that, she beamed. Even though Fate was a pain in her ass for as long as she could remember, she still had some good ideas in that old head of hers.

In unison, both females grabbed their phones and started picking the candidates.

Their "god/goddess" locator showed them that there were only three of them in this place- Death, Fate and **It**. So, that meant that others should be available.

Death was the first to call.

After a few beeps a happy voice answered.

"_Heya, my love! I missed you so! So, so good you finally called! It's time for me to shake those old bones of mine!"_

Death smiled. _**Vengeance **_was always happy to accompany Death.

"I so glad to hear you too, darling!" Death replied in sweet voice. "Would you like to come over and help a bit?"

"_Of course! How can you even ask that! Ready as always, my sweet lady! What are the coordinates?"_ Vengeance asked in eager tone.

"It's THOTRS, realm 27, underworld 6," Death answered, already prepared to see Vengeance in front of her in just a few seconds.

Judging by the silence on the other end, he must have already Apparated, Death thought amused. However, her happy demeanor changed in a second when she heard that Vengeance was still on the phone. And it vanished completely when she heard a reply.

"_Emm, you know what? I just got a call from an angry woman whose husband cheated on her. Seems to be a major case so I better hurry. See ya next time!"_ Vengeance said in a rush and hung up.

"What the fuck?" Death said out loud. Vengeance preferring someone (some woman- one woman- who wanted revenge) over Death? As in **The Death**? Impossible.

xxxxxx

Fate dialed her favorite number.

"_Oi! Hello, honey! What are we up to? I am so not staying behind this time! Tell me right now where you are!"_ A happy voice full of mirth answered after the first ring.

Fate smiled happily- _**Mirth**_ was always ready for some fun.

" THOTRS, realm 27, underworld 6," Fate answered, happily awaiting her friend.

"_Oh! You know, I forgot! I have laundry day today. I am so silly, completely forgot about it. Must be my age! Hahaha! Anyway, call me some other time, hon! Bye!"_ With that, Mirth hung up.

Fate repeated Death's previous question out loud.

xxxxxx

After nine calls, Death was beyond pissed. It all was a bad, very bad dream, she kept repeating to herself.

All in all, Death called nine of her closest friends. And the outcome?

_**Vengeance**_ was busy helping some moronic female.

While tossing me aside, Death thought angrily.

_**Carnality**_ had a headache and she couldn't even move.

Oh, please, Death thought annoyed. Lust and headache? Never seen those two together.

_**Hatred**_ said he was busy with his school work.

That fucker didn't even go to school!

_**Gluttony **_said she was on diet.

If that were true then Death was the Head Healer in the whole Galaxy. And beyond.

_**Contempt**_ was supposedly drunk all of a sudden and depressed.

Uhhu. Like, really? She'd like to see that with her own eyes if only she hadn't been stuck here.

_**Deception**_ was on a very important business trip.

For a goddess that represented mendacity, she was a shitty liar, Death decided.

_**Desperation**_ was invited to a birthday party and he just had to go.

Death has never seen Desperation outside his shitty home, with bottles and pills lying around all over the place.

_**Humiliation**_ had chicken-pox.

Death snorted before becoming angry again. That shit forgot the little fact that gods and goddesses just did **not **get ill. Never ever; unless, of course, Illness was giving the goods away for free.

Which was not the case this time since that bitch **Malady **had a free ride herself-that was according to her own words- Illness claimed she had a fucking diarrhea.

Well, fuck me, Death thought.

All her so called friends had emergencies as soon as they found out where she was now. Death guessed that they all could see very clearly that not only Death and Fate were there- they could see the third wheel as well. And that was the very reason why all of them became either sick, had parties to attend, or just mumbled some pitiful excuses.

Fuckers.

xxxxxxxx

Death hoped that Fate had managed to get them at least some help, so she glanced at her companion who was sitting in the bushes just opposite of her own.

Fate and Death stared at each other as they had only an empty road between their bushes.

Death decided to let her companion know what she had managed to find out. Pressing number one on speed dial, Death heard the annoying tune Fate had picked for her from the other side of the road.

Fate picked the phone and quickly asked.

"_Why must you call me if you can just say out loud?"_

"_Because I want to. And I am tired. And…because!"_ Death answered in irritation.

"_So, any news?"_ Fate asked.

Death looked at Fate and nodded.

"_How many did you call and what did they say?" _Fate inquired.

Death somehow managed to hold the phone between her ear and shoulder so that her hands were free.

She showed nine fingers to Fate who sat just opposite her.

"_So, nine. Who did you call?"_

Death made an angry face and then managed to look calm before showing anger again.

"_Vengeance?"_

Death nodded.

"_Who else?"_

Death put her two fingers in a V shape and brought them close to her mouth before sticking her tongue between them.

"_Lust?"_

Death nodded again.

Fate managed to get all of them right except for Deception, as Deception reminded her of Death herself.

"_And what did they say?"_

Death showed one middle finger.

xxxxxxx

Fate sighed. She had the same results.

_**Courage**_ was sick with flu.

Courage my ass, Fate thought angrily.

_**Kindness**_ was lost in the woods.

What was she doing in the woods anyway? And how the fuck could a goddess get lost in the woods, Fate mused annoyed.

_**Grace**_ was sleeping and graciously asked not to be disturbed.

Like, what?

_**Sobriety**_ was doing her school work as well.

Maybe she went to school with Hatred? Neee..Just two bad liars.

_**Glee**_ was depressed.

Duh?

**Serenity** was under drugs that kicked in only after Fate told her where to Apparate.

Uhhu, right.

_**Mirth**_ had laundry day.

Fate had no words to express her anger. Laundry? Must be the first time since she was born, Fate decided.

_**Equity**_ had bad connection and couldn't hear a thing after the coordinates were given.

Sounded way too familiar.

And _**Clarity **_was also under some drugs.

Yeah, right.

xxxxxxx

"_And what did your camp say?" _Death asked in an already mortified voice.

Fate also showed her only one finger-the middle one.

Both Fate and Death sighed as there were only two candidates left.

_**Equilibration**_ and _**Sanity**_ were neutral and usually didn't get along with Death or Fate.

Death crawled over to the opposite side of the road and sat near Fate.

"You call Balance," Death shoved the phone into Fate's hands.

With a deep sigh Fate pressed the '_call_' button and put the call on the loudspeaker.

"_Please no. Not you. What have you done and why should I bother with it?" _Balance asked in a bored voice, as if he was talking to a little child that always pissed him off with no reason what so ever.

"It's Fate, not Death," Fate answered gleefully. Seemed like Death annoyed Balance quite often. Then again, who did she NOT annoy?

"_Oh, no. Both of you there, in the same place, calling me. I cannot believe my luck!"_ a mocked reply came from the phone.

Balance- or Equilibration, - as he preferred to be named, was always a major bitch, and therefore no one really wanted to deal with him. It was only in dire circumstances that any of the gods would call him, otherwise everybody- including Fate and Death- preferred to deal on their own.

"We are in some major shit here, and it would be really nice of you to let us know how THE FUCK THAT SHIT ESCAPED HIS CAGE!" towards the end of the sentence Death started to scream.

"_Oh. __**Him**__. Well, it's only in __**that**__ realm. He's caged otherwise. So, no worries,"_ a laugh was all they got in reply.

"No worries? You shithead, imagine what would happen if Death and Fate were to receive a permanent membership in his club!" Now it was Fate's turn to bitch. Really, after eighteen moronic gods _this one_ just had to understand the predicament they found themselves in. Morons, all of them.

"Hmm. Well…Emmm…Good point," Balance finally managed to mumble. "My advice- stay away from him and call his sister, she might know what to do".

Fate and Death looked at each other and with another heavy sigh they dialed the last number.

His sister answered immediately.

"_I know, I know. Everyone has been calling me for the last hour. How the hell did you manage to get stuck in there with my darling brother on your backs?"_

"So they have been calling you? Those fuckers said they were either sick, had parties to attend, or were shitting non-stop," Death replied, annoyed at all their mutual friends. It seemed that even that wretched Malady managed to drag her ass from the toilet seat and stop shitting in order to call _**Sanity**_.

"_Well, what did you expect? After what happened to Innocence, no one wants to take risks. You are the only unlucky ones," _Sanity's answer was explaining it all. _"I cannot help you. I can only tell you this- he is alive there only because of the source. It must be the same source that dragged him out of his cell into this realm. Destroy the source and he'll be back in his cage. Good luck!" _

Sanity hung up.

Death was beyond pissed- find the source. Easy to say when your butt is not on fire. Plus, they had to help Voldemort and Hermione as well.

Both Fate and Death understood perfectly well that if one of their toys went insane, then they all would be stuck here. Forever.

"Come on," Fate nudged Death, "they will arrive in a couple of minutes. We need to get into the manor before that".

Cursing every god and goddess, Death followed Fate who was now jogging towards the Potter Mansion.

Death thought for a second that maybe not everything was lost- sure, she and Fate had no power here, as well as Hermione. However, since it was _**Insanity **_that ruled the place, then their only hope would be Voldemort. He was insane anyway.

xxxxxxx

Voldemort stared at Potter's eyes scanning the surface of the boy's brain.

After only a second of Legilimency Voldemort could clearly see that Potter was not only crazy- the boy was totally and completely insane.

Hermione was about to run to Harry when a strong arm curled around her waist, holding her tight.

"It's not _the _Potter. This one is off the rocker completely. Do not touch him, Hermione," Voldemort whispered to Hermione who was still too shocked to think straight.

Harry Potter then smiled widely at them, before his face turned into a mask of anger.

"Where is my light? We are the Light, so where is it?" he roared at the group of men that had surrounded Voldemort and Hermione upon their arrival.

"I thought he was the Dark Lord, not Light," Hermione whispered into Voldemort's ear. She couldn't understand a thing- Harry was alive, but was a Dark Lord who claimed to be the Light at the same time. How was it possible?

It seemed that Voldemort was reading Hermione's mind as he quietly whispered in reply.

"He's a nutter. He is beyond crazy. I doubt he is even human".

Hermione stared at Harry- well, not her Harry but whatever this was-, in astonishment. If this was a parallel world, then…

"And where are you? Or me?" Hermione managed to ask before a roar was heard and then "Fiendfyre!" accompanied by laughter.

Hermione Granger watched in horror as her best friend- or a clone of his, or whatever he was- put the whole ground on fire using one of the darkest curses.

However, in a second the fire was gone. It just vanished. Harry was drooling on the ground.

What the hell was going on? Hermione kept repeating in her mind while they were led to the manor, leaving a drooling Harry behind. Where the hell had Death sent them to this time?

xxxxxxx

Upon entering the manor Voldemort's red eyes shone brightly and his beautiful face was instantly lit up with joy.

"Our Harry seems to be insane, as in in-saaaa-ne. Complete insane. Aaaand," Voldemort started approaching one of the dark corners of the manor, "this domain in not yours, my love".

Who the hell was he talking to, Hermione wondered as she moved closer to him.

Upon seeing the reason for Voldemort's delight, Hermione frowned at first but then beamed at Death who was awkwardly standing in the dark corner.

Seeing Voldemort's maniacal grin that matched Hermione's, Death cursed all her friends, acquaintances and that damn Insanity. Voldemort had the upper hand in this realm and as she heard Fate counting "3, 2 ,1", she knew she was in for a ride.

'_That one is going to hurt a lot,'_ Death thought before extremely powerful Cruciatus coming from Voldemort's wand hit her in the head with full-force.

'_Ouchi!'_

Death really didn't like this realm even thought she already guessed that both Hermione and, especially, Voldemort seemed to just love it.

Well, they haven't met Insanity yet, Death mused while writhing on the floor under the curse.

The next second all thoughts flew out of her head as Voldemort seemed to have pushed all of his power into the curse.

Fuckers, Death managed to cuss for a second before she screamed.

xxxxx

Aaand to be continued. In the next chapter we will see Harry, Hermione (actually, two of them), and others. Grins


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N **I finally gave in and change the genre, as I, myself, almost died from laughter during this chapter. I wonder what does it say about my mental stability if I can write Humor when I am finally divorce and cannot  
write Angst. When I was in love and married, it was other way- Angst and no Humor...Am I sane at all? Good question..:)

Mega thanks to **Nerys** and **Serp **for beta-ing this chapter. You two rule!

Thank you who reviewed! I laughed very hard when I read you reviews! You rock!

**Beautiful-Liar13**- here is your Malfoy, as requested, served on silver plate :)

Yes, I know this update is mega fast, but Insanity's world is like my own...Serpie wonders again about if she's sane...

Anyway, enjoy!

P.S FF was being mean to me today, so in case you received an alert about a new chapter and instead saw nothing, don't worry, you didn't eat my pills. I had to manually break every fucking line. Now I am truly nutters.

P.S.S Reposted AGAIN...Arrr

**Chapter 12**

Insanity knew he had to be careful. He had this ugly feeling in his gut, a feeling that drove him nuts.

Insanity knew he was insane, but he was not stupid. He was far from being stupid, just crazy, he thought.

However, while being all giggly and happy about his new toys, he was also a bit scared. One of his four toys was scaring him, and it definitely was not Death or Fate; it was that tall guy that arrived with Hermione.

Hermione Jean Granger was his friend, so Insanity already knew her pretty well. The other guy, however, was a mystery to him - there definitely was something off about him, and it scared Insanity big time.

So, his plans had to be amended a bit, Insanity decided. He would not approach the holy four until he understood what was wrong with Red Eyes.

xxxxxxx

Death was still sobbing in the corner when Fate received her "spa" treatment from Voldemort.

"What are you doing?" Hermione screamed at Voldemort. It was one thing to Crucio the shit out of Death, who was responsible for all those horrible days Hermione had to spend with the Dark Lord, but the old lady? They hadn't even met her!

"Before you receive your portion of my favorite treatment, I can answer your question," the Dark Lord answered in happy voice. "Look at this thing." At that, Voldemort nodded his head towards the old lady who was writhing on the floor under the Cruciatus Curse. "It is another form of that motherfucker who played games with me."

Hermione looked closer at the old lady, and with disbelieving eyes, she turned to Voldemort.

"The same one who was supposed to be on our side?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Yup," was all Voldemort said.

"Then why are you torturing him or … her now?" Hermione demanded to know.

She couldn't believe it. They were in some completely crazy place with an insane Harry who cast Fiendfyre as if it were a mere Lumos; they had Death sobbing in the corner after receiving an extremely powerful and long Cruciatus; and now, Voldemort was torturing the only person who was on their side.

"He, or she, called me a moron." Voldemort smirked at the old lady after finishing the curse and turned to Hermione.

"Your turn, bitch!" Death managed to bark from her corner.

"I am your only hope!" Hermione grabbed Voldemort's robes and didn't let go, even though he tried to push her away.

"Without me, you will become her favorite toy!" Hermione tried to persuade the Dark Lord, all the while glaring at Death.

However, if Death's and even old lady's smirks were any indication, then she was also in for a ride.

"I have a fragile mind," Hermione tried again.

Voldemort smirked and pointed his wand at her.

"I will call you Tommy boy for the rest of our lives!"  
_  
Bad idea,_ Hermione thought when she saw what effect it had on the Dark Lord.

"Cruci-"

Voldemort's curse was interrupted by a maniacal laugh coming from a person who was approaching them from the left side of the manor.

"Oh shit," they all heard Fate say.

In unison, they turned towards the approaching figure who still kept laughing. When the insane laugh turned into a sob, all four travelers shared a knowing look. One more insane weirdo was coming their way.

xxxxxxx

Hermione saw the figure of a female with long, dark locks approaching them.

Putting two and two together, Hermione came to the conclusion that they were going to be graced with the presence of none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

Another burst of insane laughter followed by a cry of frustration just cemented her guess.

All they needed now was Bellatrix because they had such a boring company: Death, Fate, Hermione and the Dark Lord Voldemort.

When, whom Hermione believed to be Bellatrix Lestrange, came closer and some light from the opened windows illuminated her figure, Hermione really, really wished that she had been correct. However, with dawning horror, she saw _**herself**_ approaching their group.

With increasing interest, Voldemort looked at the "Mudblood Volume Two" as he started to call her in his mind.

She looked like trash: tiny pink skirt, red bra and slippers accompanied by red eyes with no pupils and make-up that rivaled even Bellatrix's. Even Voldemort, who didn't spend his free time reading fashion magazines, knew when enough was enough.

However, he could still appreciate good things when he saw them.

"Nice tits, Mudblood," Voldemort pronounced mockingly, looking at the real Hermione, who in turn, glared at him.

"Maybe we'll see you in strings," she bit back, "so, better shut up!"

Death and Fate tried to keep a straight face, but those two were too hilarious to be true, and they failed miserably.

"What the hell are you?" Hermione asked her whorish clone.

"I am not hell. I am Barmony Jane, but all friends call me Barmy!" the clone cried all of the sudden, making all four cringe.

"I wonder why," Hermione and Voldemort voiced their thoughts in unison.

"Barmy, Barmy, Baaaaarmy!" the insane clone roared and jumped towards Voldemort.

Barmy Jane or be it the Princess of the Moon herself, Voldemort did not like people jumping at his mighty persona.

"Crucio!"

And with that, Barmy was on the floor, laughing and crying under the torture curse.

Death and Fate moved from their respective corners to stand closer to Voldemort.

Both Fate and Death decided that it was better to get some shitty curses from Voldemort than to interact with the weirdos from this place. They had known Insanity for a very long time, and not even Fate could predict what that fucker could come up with or what he had already done to this place.

Hermione also moved closer to The Dark Lord, even grabbing his sleeve in desperation when the doors of the main hall opened and someone came in.

xxxxxxx

Upon seeing one of his best friends on the floor, writhing in agony, Harry James Potter laughed. And cried.

"Barmy! Why didn't you invite meeeee?" Harry crawled towards Barmy who was now lying still.

Voldemort had broken the connection of the curse as soon as Potter walked in.

"You! Why did you let her have fun without meeee?" Harry roared and sobbed, glaring at the Dark Lord through his broken glasses.

"Do you know who I am, Potter?" the Dark Lord inquired.

If Granger was here as Potter's friend, then, where was he himself? And how the fuck did Potter manage to become a Dark Lord?

"Daddy?" Harry answered eagerly.

Hermione coughed so hard that she thought for a second that she lost a lung in the process. Death hid her face in Fate's dress. Fate bit her cheeks so hard that she could taste blood in her mouth. Voldemort himself was smiling. Potter was not only a moron with the mind of a two-year-old, but he was also insane. How wonderful.

"No, I am not your daddy, Potter. But I can show _**you**_ some fun as well _**if**_ you want."

Voldemort was talking to Harry in a calm, endearing voice, as if he were talking to a complete retard. Well, he was actually talking to a retard, Voldemort decided and continued his play.

"Do you want to see some funny spells, Harry?" Voldemort asked nicely.

"Waaaa, YES!" the Pyro Lord cried in joy.

With dawning horror, Hermione saw Voldemort make a swift movement with his wand, and she just knew what was going to come from that wand. No way was she going to let Voldemort kill Harry again. It didn't matter that this one was as insane as Voldemort was. So, Hermione grabbed The Dark Lord's hand and jumped on him, thus restraining him from any movement.

"You bitch! I will not let you stop my new friend from playing with me!" Harry cried in despair and cast Incendio on Hermione, who was still tangled with Voldemort's form.

The spell did not reach them as, it seemed, Voldemort did not need to point his wand to cast a simple Aguamenti.

The Dark Lord grabbed Hermione's hair, making her huge brown eyes look straight into his red ones.

"You better behave, Granger." Voldemort kissed her tenderly on the nose before pushing her to the ground and finally casting his favorite curse on her.

His Cruciatus was short, as he didn't want Granger to go all barmy as well. One of them was more than he could bear. However, nobody jumped on his almighty body without permission. Nobody.

Hermione looked up from the floor, relieved that the pain was gone. She winced briefly. If that was a mild Crucio, as she knew it was, then she really felt sorry for Death, whose legs and arms still twitched from time to time. Well, maybe she would feel more sorry if them being here wasn't all Death's fault. Come to think of it, she hoped Death really, **really** hurt. Her best friend … well, his alter ego, but still ... a Harry had cast a spell on her that could have caused some major damage. Hell, it could've even killed her, Hermione thought upset. So, Voldemort was right. This was not Harry, in any shape or form. It was some crazy shit, and if Voldemort felt like having fun with it, then she would let him be.

Without any further disturbance, Voldemort smiled and pointed his wand at an eagerly awaiting Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!"

xxxxxxxxx

"You can't do that!" Death threw her cards onto the round table that Hermione had conjured almost two hours ago.

"Yes, I can. It's not like I am cheating!" Fate replied and put another point after her name.

Fate-89. Death-0.

Death always had known that playing poker against Fate was not a good idea. Now she was a thousand dollars short. Annoyed, Death glared at Hermione who was still trying to persuade her barmy clone to dress up and remove the make-up. Death and Fate had been playing Poker for the last two hours, and it was getting boring, so Death called Hermione.

"Hermione, do you want to bet?" she asked the witch who had given up on her moronic clone and was now just wandering around.

"On what?" Hermione replied somewhat relieved. She was so bored that she felt she would soon join her barmy clone in her happy club.

"How many times more Voldemort will cast the Killing Curse _in vain_?" Death moved closer to Hermione and was now observing the object of their betting.

"Avada Kedavra!" was heard again and Hermione sighed.

"Fine. I bet: five more times and he'll return," Hermione bet.

"I say ten more at least before he gets back," Death bet.

"And what is the price for the winner?" Hermione asked when she heard two "Avada Kedavras" in a row followed by loud cursing and a frustrated, nearly desperate cry. Apparently, Lord Voldemort's inability to cast his normally most effective curse made him lose it completely. Of course, it didn't help that the target in question was one who had a track record of evading his Killing Curse in whatever realm he was in.

"Ten dollars," Death offered.

"Sure, why not?" Hermione wondered if she was still sane. Betting with Death on how many times Voldemort would cast the Killing Curse on the still-alive-and-even-crazier-than-before Harry Potter before he got tired didn't sound like the thing sane people would do.

"Fuck you, Potter!" was heard from the hallway, and soon, both Death and Hermione saw Voldemort march into the room.

"Nooo, please don't go! I need three more, otherwise I am not pretty!" a whiny voice belonging to Harry Potter was getting closer as well.

Soon, a running figure of Harry Potter covered in lightning bolt scars all over his face was seen as well.

"I need two on my arse cheeks and one … there!" Harry screamed in agony, pulling down his pants to reveal his balls and penis. As soon as he saw that he had the attention of all the occupants of the room, he started shaking his equipment all the while crying out for "_more_".

Even Death stood quietly at the sight. She was sooo glad that she had never been close to Insanity until that fucker was locked up for good. Well, for good ...

Fate kept trying to erase _that_ vision from her mind.

Hermione was trying to shake Voldemort into action. " What are you staring at? Just kill him already!" She was still three more Avadas away from beating Death in their bet after all.

"Kill him?" Voldemort roared at Hermione. "And what the fuck do you think I have been doing for the last two hours: Cleaning the fucking house? Every fucking Avada hits that fucker, and every fucking time, he faints. Then, he jumps up happily with another fucking scar on his body. He even started to show me places where I should point the curse to! His arse and dick!" Voldemort continued screaming in frustration.

"Do I look like a fucking decorator to you?"

The decorator shook Hermione who kept staring at him with huge unblinking eyes.

Hermione turned to Death for confirmation.

Death sighed dramatically and answered Hermione's silent question.

"Yes, I have no power here, so no one can die." Death continued before anybody could become too excited, "They just go insane."

Barmy decided that she had had enough- no one was paying her attention!

"Dwaca!" she roared into empty space.

"What is a 'dwaca?'" Hermione whispered to Death who was busy giving Hermione her well deserved ten dollars.

Death frowned and tried to think of any creature that went by the name of Dwaca. Getting no results, Death turned to Fate who also shook her head in a silent "no."

"Voldemort, who or what is a 'dwaca?'" Hermione finally asked the Dark Lord who was pacing back and forth, annoyed beyond imagination.

"How the fuck should I know? With Barmy and Pyro, it could be anybody," he snapped back.

"Too true, it's Insanity's realm, so anything could be possible," Fate mused quietly.

"Insanity?" Hermione asked in horror. That explained it all.

"Yes. Insanity exists, just like Fate and I do. The only difference is that he was locked up in a cage deep down in Limbo ages ago. All gods and goddesses locked him up for good after he turned Innocence into a whore. How this shit escaped, we do not know," Death explained in a bored tone.

"We asked for help, but all our friends refused to come, too afraid of going off their rocker. Insanity will get to you if you touch him. So, in case you see anything: Don't touch it," Fate warned them.

"So, Harry and Barmy are affected? Can it be cured?" Hermione asked, hoping for an affirmative answer.

A loud snort came from Voldemort. _Cured?_ he thought, amused. _She obviously hadn't seen Potter's or Barmy's brains, which were non-existent._

Annoyed, Hermione glared at him. "Shut up, Voldemort. We are not telling jokes here, you know!"

"Volmorty?" They all heard Harry say.

"Say what?" Voldemort came closer to Harry before firing one Crucio. "My name is Lord Voldemort, you moron."

"Lo Valmora?" Harry asked happily. Maybe his friend would be in a good mood if he just repeated his name and would give him a new scar?

Harry was really angry at Barmy. They had drawn his first lightning bolt scar with iron scissors when it could be done with a fun spell that made you fly as well!

"Crucio."

A scream, then seconds later: "Vlmartoid?"  
_  
That didn't even sound similar_, Voldemort thought, annoyed since his Cruciatus seemed as ineffective as his Killing Curse had been on Potty. He was quickly becoming more irritated with this version than he'd been with the other one. At least that Potter had the decency to die and remember his name. Although, that Potter had had the nerve to call him Riddle. Perhaps they were equally moronic? His frustration grew and he barked out: "Crucio!"

"Voldemorta?" The Dark Lord heard maniacal laughter erupting from the Mudblood: the sane one. Well, sane until he was done with her for laughing **at** him.

"Vol-de-mmmortaa," Hermione repeated between laughing and coughing. This was way too good to be true.

Still hiccupping from laughter, even after one small Crucio, Hermione saw a new figure approach them.

"Dwaca!" Barmy roared again.

Lord Voldemort and Hermione Granger had similar expressions of pure disbelief on their faces. There, just a couple of meters from them, stood the one and only Draco Malfoy dressed in a small pink dress with a Russian made-for-the-North-Pole heavy hat with ears on his head.

"Masturs?" the before unidentified creature now known as Dwaca asked Pyro and Barmy in low, hushed voice.

xxxxxxxxx

Lord Voldemort, after seeing pure-blood Malfoy Junior as a house-elf, did not even want to think where the hell he himself was. No doubt adopted by Dumbledore, or better yet, playing a doting husband and a father to a hoard of insane weirdos.

Now that they all were seated in a room prepared for guests, Voldemort had some major questions to ask, and he'd better receive proper answers as well. The "or else" part was left unsaid, as the other occupants of the room perfectly knew how that one ended.

Hermione sat on a large bed thinking over what she had found out. Apparently, Insanity became Harry's (or what the hell it was, since it definitely was not Harry) friend at the age of five. After that … everything was history. Hermione asked her whorish clone, who kept eyeing the Dark Lord the entire time, where they learned magic, and in reply, she got: "School."

The facts that Hermione had in her head were pretty simple and straight to the point. And that made the situation even more awful.

Insanity was the Master of this realm, whereas Death and Fate had no powers here whatsoever.

Harry Potter became the Dark Lord knowing only three spells: one Fiendfyre, one Incendio and one Lumos. That was all he knew. And how to light a match.

Her whorish clone, Barmony Jane, also knew only three spells, and was deeply in love with fashion.

Hogwarts was never built.

Albus Dumbledore existed and was believed to be Harry's grandfather. The said grandfather was now in Alaska improving his tan. Hermione guessed he was also nutters.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, had never been born. And that was a huge plus point. Since Voldemort was the only one here that didn't otherwise exist in this realm (Fate and Death did not count), then he was also the only one who could survive a meeting with Insanity.

Hermione truly believed that this was not the reason. She believed the truth was that Voldemort could drive anyone insane, Insanity itself included, and he already was "not there in the head."

Death voiced her thoughts. She believed that Voldemort's Horcruxes kept him stable here, but later, even Death gave up and agreed with Hermione.

Fate was silent, happy that they were away from those weirdos, who were caught outside the lovely room warded by Voldemort himself. Fate doubted that even Hogwarts had such wards as their room did now.

It was after "The Dwaca" showed up that they were offered a room to stay, well, two rooms to be exact. However, after Death, Fate and Hermione declared in unison that they were staying in the same room as Voldemort -at which he actually groaned in agony- they got one room on the second floor of the mansion.

Hermione looked up, finally emerging from her thoughts, to see Voldemort interrogate Fate and Death.

"I will go and catch that motherfucker you are so afraid of and I will bring him here to you. Is that clear?" Voldemort asked in happy voice. Finally, he had the upper hand in Death's realm.

Both Fate and Death nodded. Reluctantly, but they nodded anyway.

"So, I will ask again. Now that we have Granger back from her la-la land, I am asking once more. How do we escape the House of the Rising Sun?"

"I do not know!" Death cried in frustration. She had been trying to explain to Voldemort that every person had their own way out. How the hell was she supposed to know? "Ask Fate, not me. I just play with people and turn them into Dementors, that's all!"

Fate glared at Death who glared back.

A glare from Voldemort made Fate speak. "I also do not know. Everyone has their own destiny, their own way out!" She was also annoyed. Voldemort was either stupid or just wanted to torture them. She decided the last idea was the correct one.

"So, we are being thrown from one place to another and there is no secure way out?" Hermione interrupted Voldemort's investigation. She was as much of a victim as he was!

"Well, I wouldn't be so dramatic about it, Hermio-" Fate was interrupted by a double glare coming from Hermione and Voldemort.

"Fine. Then tell me this: Has anyone ever escaped this shitty place before?" Hermione asked.

Voldemort nodded; he also wanted to know. Because if the answer was no, he would kill them all here and now.

Death and Fate shared a look, before Death whispered a quiet, "Yes."

Hermione beamed, only to become annoyed a second later, when Fate added, "But we cannot tell you the names. It's a no-no for us; so you can torture us as much as you want, but we simply cannot tell you."

Voldemort groaned, and Hermione sat back onto the bed in defeat.

"How many escaped? You have to be able to tell us at least _that_." Voldemort just didn't give up.

Fate drew in a breath before deadpanning, "Only five."

"They all were in the same group?" Hermione immediately asked.

"No. The first one was alone. The others were indeed a group of four," Death answered. It still was a sore topic for her. Escapees, the nerve of those people! Especially with their almighty attitude- still coming and going from realm to realm as they pleased. No respect whatsoever!

"How?"

Again, Voldemort had to squeeze the answer from them. However, what Voldemort and Hermione heard made them a lot happier than they were before.

Death grimaced and nodded her head towards Fate.

"That bitch had other plans for them, so she helped them out as she has been helping you. But, mark my words, she will not succeed this time. Plus, you have no idea what she did to those five in the end!" Death finished her speech and went to sit on a couch away from the windows, the door and them.

Fate was just about to say something when they heard a loud banging on their door, followed by an annoying childish voice.

"Will you be my new friiiends, bitches?"

xxxxxxx

Fate and Death screamed. Hermione had a very strong grip on Voldemort's arm, and Voldemort just smirked.  
_  
Insanity, eh? Meet Lord Voldemort, bitch,_ he thought, opening the door with one swift movement and staring at the ugly child.

"Lord Voldemort ain't no bitch," the Dark Lord spoke slowly, pronouncing all the words carefully.

The child grimaced and very suddenly grabbed Voldemort's hand.

Fate and Death, now accompanied by Hermione, screamed.

"You are my new friend, Voldie-pooh!" Insanity declared with the shining smile of a winner - a smile that looked completely out of place on the child's ugly face.

"Voldie-pooh," Voldemort childishly repeated, "has a new friend!"  
_  
We are doomed_, Fate and Death thought in unison. Now, their only hope was insane as well. They were all going to be psychos in the very near future.

Hermione looked in horror at the smiling Voldemort, who was now repeating his new nickname so many times she wanted to smack him. Hard. Repeatedly.

Nothing new there.  
_  
Please, please, not him_, Hermione thought in desperation. They needed him. Oh, who cared about those other two bitches? _She_ needed him. She couldn't escape her dementorish future without him.

_Murderer and _sociopath, who cares, as long he's on your side.

Plus, he could be nice sometimes, and he was really smart, a genius even, who was now reduced to a moronic Voldie-pooh.

"Voldie-pooh will play with me, play with me, play with me!" Insanity continued in a singing voice, all the while throwing mocking apologetic glances towards Death and Fate.

Fate was now hugging Death, prepared to go off their rocker, when Hermione felt that something was off. Something wasn't what it was supposed to be. She couldn't pinpoint what, but she was sure of it. Yet, she was the only one to notice that: Death was hugging Fate, whispering how sorry she was and what a great friend Fate had been. Harry-the-Pyro was standing next to Insanity with Barmy to his left and those three also seemed to be too engaged in their plays to take notice.

"And how do we start our gaaame?" the child asked Voldemort with a playful smile on its face.

"I know!" Voldemort, or what was left of him, cried out.

No, Hermione knew she'd been wrong. She just imagined that Voldemort somehow managed to escape going completely nutters. Now, she could see it clearly: He was as crazy as the rest of the barmy bunch.

"Tell me!" Harry cried, shoving Barmy aside.

"No, tell me!" Barmione Jane cried in anticipation.

"Silence!" Insanity roared, and all of them went eerily quiet.

"Voldie-pooh will tell me first! So, Voldie-pooh ..." Insanity rubbed its small hands together, waiting for some new game before he would turn Fate, Death and Hermione as well.

"We staaart …" Voldemort sang and, on purpose, pouted his lips and wrinkled his forehead, as if thinking hard.

"With?" Harry cried.

"With?" Barmy cried.

"With what?" Insanity eagerly asked.

"On the count of threeee!" Voldemort cried.

The three other morons started to count.

"One," Harry said.

"Two," Barmy said.

" Threee!" Insanity roared in happiness and anticipation.

"Here comes the Christmas Tree," Voldemort sang to the rhyme.

"Where?" the three weirdos asked in unison, looking around.

"Right here," Voldemort replied, pointing to the tip of his wand that was at eye-level with Insanity's head.

"Hehe?" Insanity laughed uncertainly.

"Hehe, it is. Crucio!" An extremely powerful Cruciatus Curse smashed into Insanity's head and sent the bothersome child down the staircase, crying in agony.

"The nerve of that shit!" The Dark Lord muttered, before firing a Killing Curse towards Insanity that instantly vanished.

The next second Lord Voldemort was being suffocated by three females.

Usually, The Dark Lord had nothing against three or foursomes, but now was not the time. He had a motherfucker to kill. Besides, no matter what people said, he didn't fancy ancient Grandmas. Yuck.

'Voldie-pooh, my ass,' Voldemort thought, annoyed, trying to push Death, Fate and Hermione off his important persona.

xxxxxxx

Insanity sat in the bushes near the house. His pants were wet since he'd pissed all over himself from the pain that the curse had inflicted.

Shivering and biting his pink nails, the old man kept sitting in the bushed, too afraid to come out.

He needed to send that spooky, red-eyed guy to some other realm, alongside with Fate, Death and Hermione. Even though they'd be lovely new toys, they weren't worth the pain the Boogie man would undoubtedly inflict on Insanity again.

Insanity thought that had he not been insane, he would have told himself: "I told you so."  
_  
No real Dark Lords in his small realm, please_, he begged silently and stared at the sky. _That bugger was just too scary._

xxxxxxx

A/N Hehehe…To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N** And here we have another **AU**... the worst AU possible, if you ask me.

Dear Lord Voldemort, if you are reading this, then please be aware that I was not the only one who did "that" to you.

**Nerys** and **Serp** not only beta-ed the chapter, but also gladly added more and more...things...to your description..So, Crucio them as well, please. I don't want to be alone...(Yeah, I know, I am a bitch, but I won't suffer alone! Bitches must join me..wide smile..where are my pills?)

And we finally find out who else Serpie decided to push into this story.

Here you are...Enjoy!

P.S Had to break sentences manually again...It suuucks!

**Chapter 13**

Drumming her polished fingernails against a huge yew tree, Death recalled the events that brought her into her current predicament.

Here she was, out of that insane realm after Insanity begged Voldemort on his knees to just leave. Pretty please_._ Fate and Death were bouncing in excitement, and Hermione was smiling happily at hearing this bit of pleasant news.

However, Voldemort was not going to leave like that. Empty-handed … pfft … he was not a Dark Lord for nothing. And since he had all the power in this situation, he was sure to use it to his advantage.

So, it took at least four hours of Voldemort's "diplomatic" skills to get what he wanted from Death before he actually agreed to leave. It frustrated Death, Fate and Hermione since they could not leave without him, and it frustrated Insanity because he wanted to be rid of them. Now! As in immediately without any further discussion!

Usually, all what was needed was a "Green Light" from the Master of the realm for the travelers to leave, but somehow, cursing the said Master had inadvertently affected this mechanism.

Voldemort had changed the power balance to such a degree that Insanity couldn't do a thing without his consent. Something that made Insanity even more adamant that they had to leave. And something that made Voldemort smirk at his most smugness.

Voldemort claimed that he didn't have enough "fun" torturing Insanity, so he had to get "bonus points" from Death before he would be willing to bring them to another realm. Even Death could not understand how that was possible. Insanity was already begging them to leave, something that would make the other gods and goddesses' mouths drop open. Usually, it was the other way around.

She was ...

At the thought, Death paused since she could not remember how old she was exactly. Still, with all the wisdom and knowledge she possessed, that bitch Voldemort managed to screw her over big time.

That fucker, who was supposed to be her toy, managed to get a vow from her that any other dimension where he, alongside with Granger, were thrown into would contain two things: Magic and no Potter in any form or shape.

Voldemort also tried to get her to agree to: "No Dumbledore, no fucking moronic creatures and closer to the exit."

As if she were crazy! That would take all the fun out of having him as her toy.

So, Death claimed she would rather stay with Insanity, or what was left of him after Voldemort provided him with his usual "Spa package. All included Plus."

Since that left Voldemort stuck with nothing left to bargain about, he had to accept. Magic and no Potter was all he got for dragging them all from that realm. Although if you witnessed his almighty, haughty attitude, you'd think he won the lottery.

Death smirked. Lottery, her arse. He had no idea whatsoever what she had in store for him.

Fate was gone. The old lady needed some rest after the "Weirdo" realm; she was off to Disneyland, riding the roller-coaster as she always liked to do to calm her nerves. This meant that, without the interfering busybody called Fate, Death had free rein over her two toys. No help for them in this new realm. And what a realm it was.

Smugly rubbing her hands, Death suddenly screamed as she felt a striking pain in her left ankle.

"Aren't we smug! And seem to be sane … how unfortunate, I expected more from Insanity."

The voice full of arrogance and amusement came closer when Death finally grabbed the damn snake that bit her seconds ago and tossed it away.

"Oh no. You," Death moaned in agony.

_What was that Muggle saying?_ Death thought. _Something about an apple and a tree, or something similar. Those two certainly were related._

"Me, me. Who else? Your stupidity is annoying, but you're fun to mess around with," an old man with a long beard smoothly said, now caressing the snake that was so rudely tossed aside by Death.

"You two will be the death of me," Death snapped at the old man and went quiet, understanding what she had said a moment too late.

"Death of Death. You are soooo smart. Did I mention that already?"

Now, the old man was making fun of her. As always. The bloody nerve of him and his equally smug and annoying pals.

Death hated him with all her being: He had escaped the House of the Rising Sun with his moronic friends, and after a millennium of doing whatever the hell he was doing, he came back, coming and going back and forth, from one world to another, all the while mocking her. Fucker.

Yeah, he was without a doubt the most annoying fucker of the four. Something she didn't share because he was bound to take it as a compliment. Fucking snake.

"You'll get kicked in that butt of yours for what you're trying to pull off in this realm." The old man kept talking in a hushed, mocking tone, as if he were talking to a mindless child instead of Death.

"Oh really?" she huffed in annoyance. _When will he leave already with that damned snake of his_?

She had a spectacle to watch, and she preferred to be left alone to have her laugh.

"Yes, really. You, oh-so-clever one, cannot even imagine how that realm you chose for them will bite you back in the arse. But it's for you to find out and feel, and for me to see and enjoy."  
The old man finished his arrogant and mocking speech with a mocking laugh, told the snake to follow him, and left Death alone at last.

_Finally,_ Death thought happily, ignoring the bugger's statement on how this realm would affect her. _What the hell did he know anyway? Nothing._

Swiftly, she went to see how Mega-Bitch aka Voldemort would react to _this_ realm.

No Potter and Magic.

That was just fine by her.

_Enjoy, motherfucker_, Death thought, and a maniacal laugh erupted from her lips.

xxxxxxx

Soft light illuminated the rooms of the current Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, who was now busy marking the essays his students had written on the topic: "_Dark Magic and its origins."  
_  
It was clear some of them hadn't properly read the chapter about non-retaliation and negotiation in _"Defensive Magical Theory"_ by Wilbert Slinkhart. Such a good book: very peaceful, as it  
should be. As this night was. So beautiful. Nobody should fight or cast offensive spells on a night like this.

The Professor sighed and pushed the papers away. He was in no mood for grading papers now since the moon shone brightly, filling the said Professor with inspiration. Grabbing the nearest empty parchment, he started to write his new poem, titled: "_Home_."

"_I always go to sleep in sadness,_  
_  
My loneliness bordering on madness,_  
_  
But I know, deep in my heart,_  
_  
There is a place for purer part."_

The Professor put the quill down and frowned, as he recalled his latest interaction with **that** old man.

He was evil, pure malice, and yet, he would always come to him, appear out of thin air and mock him for being a whiny bitch instead of a proper heir. As if he wanted to be what that old man called proper. Such a vile individual: mocking, dark, full of hatred and surrounded by a powerful dangerous aura … it made the DADA Professor sick to his stomach.

No, the professor knew right from wrong. And he lived by his morals, taught them to others, and wouldn't be swayed by his unworthy, vicious ancestors. He'd make his own choices, be his own man: an example to everything and everyone that was Light.

He'd shown the world one could overcome disadvantages and be a better person for it. He was better than that old man, no matter what he said. He was better than the evil wizard, even though he seemed incapable of vanquishing him.

Recently, the DADA Professor had tried to vanish what he deemed to be an evil spirit with the silver holy cross that he'd bought in Muggle London near his favorite candy shop. The spirit had only laughed and circled his index-finger around his head as if indicating that his heir - _him _- was off his rocker.

The Professor sighed heavily and thought of all those dark wizards and witches that tried to fight against all the wonderful, brave Muggle-borns and strove after blood purity. Such a ridiculous quest. His "ghost," as the Professor had started to call him (for he could not be alive), was once the leading force behind those horrible murders.

He shook his head in sadness at that, feeling his soft locks caress his soft cheek. Such horrors. He would never, ever be a part of such atrocities. He'd turn the other cheek and achieve a moral victory, which was exactly what he was teaching his wonderful, young, innocent students. Morality, being a good person, counted. Victory could be won in defeat. And love was the greatest power around. Magic was love: a bright shining white light of love that engulfed the world and made everything alright.

Kissing his silver cross and popping a lemon drop (his favorite candy) into his mouth, the professor sat straight and, with a determined hand, continued his poem.

_"Tom Marvolo Riddle would never ever go against the Light!_  
_  
For he, alone, was their shining Knight in the dark, dark Night!"_

xxxxxxx

"Get your hands off of me, Granger," Lord Voldemort snapped at the Muggle-born witch, who still kept clinging to him as if her life depended on that act.

Frantically looking around and seeing Hogwarts just a few miles away, Hermione finally let go of Voldemort's robes, reassured that she was finally away from that ugly child called Insanity and in another realm.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked in a now slightly calmer voice. _Hogwarts, magic, no Death in sight: perfect!_

However, Hermione Granger knew all too well that there was always something wrong with the realms under Death's jurisdiction as it had always been before.

"Somewhere," Voldemort answered, not really paying attention to the Mudblood. Sure, he was a genius and all-knowing, naturally, so he provided her with the answer that was correct everywhere. Stupid, little chit for asking such insipid questions. Perhaps another Crucio was in order?

However, Voldemort could see an old man standing not far away from them, and with a start, the Dark Lord realized whom it was. There was no way he was meeting that man eye to eye with his present company. He could just hear her go off on one of her right versus wrong lectures. Nope, she was NOT coming with him.

"Stay here," Voldemort ordered the still quiet Hermione and started walking towards the old man.

Naturally, since the Mudblood was always such a timid and complying witch, she obeyed him.

Not.

"No way. I am coming with you, or did you forget about our chance of becoming Dementors if we get split up? Now that may be an improvement when your looks are concerned, but for me ... I like to remain looking like a human being," Hermione sneered, trailing after Voldemort immediately.

Voldemort didn't need to know that he was a very handsome man even with those creepy red eyes of his, which actually fitted him in a way …  
What was she thinking? Bad Hermione, she scolded herself before blaming the source responsible.

Who the hell did Voldemort think he was, giving her orders like that? As if she were one of his moronic Death Eaters? Not in a million years. Besides, she was curious about that bearded bloke over there, too. And they were supposed to stay together. Damn Death and her sick sense of humor.

The Dark Lord turned abruptly and asked in sweet voice, "Do we like our Crucios, Mudblood?"

_Not particularly, _Hermione thought, swallowing. She'd had enough for one day. Well, for the rest of her life to be exact. Not that she thought that was a likely wish to be granted. No matter that Hermione Jean Granger had always been the brightest witch of her age, she was not even close to what Voldemort was. She herself had witnessed how well the Dark Lord could command not only the enormous magical power he possessed, but also everyone around him: Insanity, Death and Fate included.

Deciding not to trigger what seemed to be an already agitated Dark Lord, she stepped aside and reluctantly agreed to wait as long as Voldemort and the old man remained in her sight.

"Worried you'll lose me?" the obnoxious Lord mocked. "I'm touched."

Before Hermione had a chance to give him a witty, sharp reply, Voldemort was already underway to their new company. Hermione really hoped the bloke was some other kind of deity, capable of sending that smug arse flying through the air. Alas, she clearly noticed how the old man smiled at Voldemort with … was that pride? Crap. Wasn't she ever going to get lucky?

Hermione decided right there and then that life was extremely unfair in Death's universes.

xxxxxxx

The old man smiled proudly as Voldemort halted in front of him. Finally, he had the chance to meet his true heir instead of that sick fuck who polluted the air in this realm. It felt gooood. He could even taste the Dark Magic, for it was an extremely powerful dark magical aura that swerved around his **rightful** heir.

Voldemort smiled. It must have been one of his very rare real smiles, especially since it was aimed at another and not meant for himself. Before him stood the only person he had ever admired. Well, again, besides himself that was.

"Salazar Slytherin, a pleasure," Voldemort said, greeting his ancestor with a reserved nod.

"My true heir," the extremely pleased Salazar Slytherin replied, "we meet at last."

"Care to tell me what are you doing in _this_ place?" Voldemort inquired.

For all he knew, Salazar Slytherin along with the rest of the Founders were believed to be firmly dead. Now, he was looking at the proof of the opposite right in front of him, and considering how long ago his ancestor lived, Mr. Immortality Obsession just needed to know the secret.

He recalled from his History of Magic classes that the deaths of all the Founders were a huge mystery. There were no graves to be found anywhere; no data as to where, when and how they died; nothing. It seemed like they had just vanished into thin air. Most historians blamed this on the time period and the inadequacy of record-keeping in those days. But he - being smarter than everyone else - had always suspected something had happened, even though he had no idea what.

"I come and go as I please," always the sneaky one, Salazar answered innocently.

"How? Aren't you dea-?"

At the same time Voldemort was about to finish the sentence, he remembered what Death had told him in Insanity's realm.

_"The group of four. Fate helped them." _

Fate had helped the Founders! So ... that was where they disappeared to, Voldemort guessed. Back to where they came from: The House of the Rising Sun. His red eyes swept around the environment. Why on earth would anyone voluntarily come back to this Death-Invested shithole?

Well, come to think of it, he could think of a reason or two: one being to rub it into the bitch's face. Yeah, Lord Voldemort could definitely appreciate that reason. He'd have to get Salazar Slytherin to tell him his secret now that the Founder was here. Right in front of him. How truly wonderful!

"Before you start your interrogation, my true heir," Slytherin patted the Dark Lord on the shoulder, "I have some very important information to tell you before that bitch interrupts us."

"The Mudblood?" Voldemort asked in a somewhat astonished voice. Salazar was rushing because of Granger? Oh, please … Maybe this was some silly copy and not the real deal after all?

"No, my heir," Salazar said, shaking his bald head, "not the Mudblood, no matter how good she is."

"Good?"

Voldemort decided this could not be his great ancestor. Too bad for the bloke. Lord Voldemort would execute his judgment immediately.

_Must be some shitty creature again,_ Voldemort thought, as he reached inside his robe for his wand.

"Oh, stop it! I have several millennia of magical experience over you. Now as much as I consider you to truly be a worthy heir, I'd still advise you to keep that wand in your pocket if you don't want to land in a compromising, embarrassing position in front of _your_ Mudblood. After all, we have more important issues at hand than duel each other. And yes, that Mudblood of _yours_ - "

Not appreciating this continued emphasis on the possessive form, Voldemort opened his mouth to proclaim that the Mudblood had nothing to do with him.

However, Salazar simply glared at the Dark Lord and continued relentlessly, " - is really quite extraordinary. You'll understand later. But I wasn't talking about her. I meant the whiny bitch that pretends to rule here."

"Death?" Voldemort asked with a raised eyebrow, considering he could always curse "Salazar" when he was done chatting. He'd always been patient and excellent at keeping score. One Crucio per insult. Yeah, that was the way to go.

"You seem to know her as well as I do." Salazar smirked and grabbed Voldemort's hand.

_Seriously, is he gay or what?_ The Dark Lord considered, annoyed. Two Crucios per touch. He was no Dumbledore.

"Fate is away at the moment, so Death decided to let you know how unamused she was with your antics," Slytherin whispered to his increasingly irked heir.

Three Crucios for every unnecessary statement. He already knew Death was unamused with his actions; it was a major plus point in performing them.

"I am so pleased to see **you**," the ancestor continued unwisely intimate, "because I have seen the** other** you from this realm already. And, trust me, that sick fuck is beyond anyone's imagination. I warn you: Do not try to kill him straight away. The Mudblood may actually help you there if you play your cards right, and that will be extremely beneficial to your goals."

Hmmm... beneficial to his goals … that was more like it. Perhaps he could deduct one Crucio per useful statement? Lord Voldemort was a merciful man, after all.

So, the Salazar Slytherin was advising him to manipulate the Mudblood into killing the Lord Voldemort of this realm. Well, he could certainly do that. No problemo. The person he couldn't steer hadn't been born yet.

But what was the reason behind killing his other self? If he was so annoying, why didn't Slytherin do it himself? If Slytherin thought he could manipulate Lord Voldemort into doing his bidding, he had another one coming. He would act for one person and one person's benefit alone: Lord Voldemort's. And if Lord Voldemort decided it would be in his best interest to let the Mudblood kill the other him, then it would be so.

However, if Slytherin said the Mudblood had to kill _him_, then, he had to be himself, Lord Voldemort, in this realm, which didn't make sense, since Slytherin seemed happy and proud to meet him and he'd called the other him a 'sick fuck.'

Now, Lord Voldemort knew he was no "sick fuck." He was brilliant, a genius; eccentric is the correct word to use then. So, there was no way the Mudblood would kill _him_. Why would he feel inclined to have her kill him anyway? What the hell was he like? Voldemort mused.

"You are a DADA teacher," Salazar said blankly.

Voldemort grimaced. That was the job he'd wanted back home. Loooong time ago before he changed his mind and just took over the whole damn world. Otherwise, he'd be still teaching mindless little creeps on how to pronounce moronic spells.

"You are a complete moron and you hate me," his ancestor added.

He grimaced even more. About the moron bit. The hatred part … well … he already felt conflicted towards Slytherin: To kill or not to kill, that's the question.

However, it seemed that Salazar decided to throw a whole bucket of shit on him in one go.

"You are lighter than Harry Potter has ever been; you just adore lemon drops; you _caaaare_; you despise the magnificence that is the Arts; your biggest ambition is to rid the world of all evil; you **curl** your hair; you write poems and you fucking sing," Slytherin deadpanned, enjoying the look of sincere horror on his heir's face before adding sweetly: "And the last time we've met, you - in all your brilliance - tried to vanquish me with a silver **Muggle** cross." Slytherin rolled his grey eyes at the memory.

Voldemort looked gobsmacked as he could not understand how - _how _he had managed to turn into something like that. That description had to be false, untrue … mistaken. No version of him could possibly like lemon drops. Such sacrilege.

"And, before we are interrupted, which is bound to happen really soon, one more advice: Make sure you and the Mudblood look like a couple. Do whatever it takes to make her agree to that, otherwise you will miss the whole fun," Salazar whispered before being interrupted, as he had previously guessed, by a loud female screech.

Salazar grimaced as he already had an enormous headache, all thanks to his wonderfully trustful heir.

Lord Voldemort shook his head, as if trying to process all the information. Without a second glance at his ancestor, he walked towards Granger who was now standing with an annoyed expression on her face. Well, considering who was standing near her, Voldemort couldn't really blame her.

Death had finally arrived, but a little too late as Voldemort already had managed to gain enough information as to what was awaiting them inside the castle: a Fuck-knows-who version of himself, no Potter, Salazar Slytherin instead of Fate (The Dark Lord was even glad that was the case, since Fate was as annoying as Death) and coupling with the Mudblood for "fun."

Hmmm, not bad at all, Voldemort decided as he came closer to Hermione.

After all, Salazar Slytherin had not lied to him, not even once. It wasn't that he inexplicitly trusted his ancestor -which he didn't by the way- it was that during their whole conversation Voldemort had been using Legilimency non-stop. Just to be sure he wasn't going to step into a trap.

xxxxxx

Death took her time before finally deciding to come and visit her toys. And it was something she regretted big time after seeing who else was here besides her two toys. That sneaky bitch had managed to tell something to his equally sneaky bitchy offspring, and that was not good. Not good at all, Death decided when she saw Voldemort approach them and grab Hermione by her waist.

"Uh?" Death voiced her astonishment. Since when were Voldemort and Hermione all lovely-dovey?

_'I know where we are and what awaits us.'  
_  
Hermione heard a voice in her head. A familiar voice. Voldemort's. His steady hand on her back pressed her body even closer to his.

'_I know you are a Gryffindork, but you must act properly, so that everyone will believe us to be a couple. I'll explain later, but I warn you beforehand: I will not hesitate in "reminding" you again and again of what I have told you to do should you ruin it.'_ The voice took a threatening note at the end of the sentence.

Hermione could not decide what to do. Sure, she had no doubts that Voldemort would keep his word and "remind" her, but she could not be so sure he'd keep his other word and explain it all later.

However, if her previous experiences were any indication (Hermione still vividly remembered how scared she was when Insanity 'got' Voldemort), then she could trust him in a way.

Glancing at Death who was biting her lip in worry, Hermione decided to go with the flow. Apparently, Death didn't appreciate what she saw. And whenever Death had been worried before, it had meant good news for them. Besides, it was better to have Voldemort by her side when playing games with Death.

He was a force to be reckoned with in any dimension, Hermione mused and suddenly hugged Voldemort back.

Hermione Granger smirked when she saw the worry increase on Death's face. She had been correct. Whatever game Death was playing, Voldemort was already at least one step ahead.

xxxxx

They saw a vague figure approach them from the side of the castle. Death barked in her annoying voice "Enjoy" and vanished.

Voldemort glanced at the spot where not long ago his ancestor had stood and recalled the last words spoken to him in Parseltongue: _"Everything is already arranged."_  
_  
We'll see_, the Dark Lord thought, and with enormous willpower that only he possessed, he stopped himself from pulling his wand out and casting his favorite green light at the creep who was supposed to be him in this realm.

Said creep casually strolled towards them and halted right in front of them with an open and honest welcoming expression.

Hermione Granger, still embraced by Lord Voldemort, could not believe her eyes. There, just a few feet away from her, stood Tom Marvolo Riddle - a completely sane and normal person in opposition to his almost identical clone whom she was still hugging. This Tom was younger, no more than twenty-five maybe, with pure and crystal clear grey eyes shining warmly on his handsome face.

Hermione looked up at Lord Voldemort only to get the surprise of her life. His eyes were not red anymore. They were deep grey in color with red specks in them. His gentle smile made Hermione wonder if she was still in the Insanity's realm. A grey-eyed Voldemort with a smile on his face, what was the world coming to?  
_  
You have got to be kidding me_, Hermione thought, still in a state of shock.

"My dear Lord and Lady," Tom Marvolo Riddle made a small bow towards Hermione, "we have been expecting your arrival with eager anticipation."

Hermione noticed that this Tom had a much softer voice that didn't have the usual "Voldemortish" tone to it. Plus, as she took a closer look, she noticed that this Tom had much longer, curled hair and was wearing red with golden robes that represented the House of Gryffindor.

It was Voldemort's death grip on her waist that made Hermione swallow the mocking snort that was about to erupt from her upon seeing Voldemort as a Gryffindor. Several puns ran through her mind - all too dangerous to voice out loud.

Voldemort nodded, actually afraid to open his mouth and accidentally Avada the crystal clear-eyed motherfucker impersonating him. Bouncing curls and Gryffindorkish robes … no wonder Salazar called him a sick fuck.

"Please," the motherfucker bowed again, making Voldemort harden his grip on Hermione and Hermione swallow another snort, "allow me to show you the way to Hogwarts."

Hermione smiled, thinking that maybe this Voldemort, who did not seem like Voldemort at all, wouldn't be as bad as his other self.

xxxxxxxxx

Supposedly, they were important guests from Durmstrang whose purpose of visiting was to make themselves familiar with the educational system of Hogwarts.

Neither Voldemort nor Hermione could guess what the reason was, and they'd tried to ask but couldn't get a word in. Everyone seemed to be a chatterbox in this realm. Dumbledorish  
clones, all around, and one had an appearance that resembled Lord Voldemort's. The Dark Lord considered this to be the biggest sacrilege of all.

After a quick meeting with the Headmistress, who was none other than Moaning Myrtle herself, a shocked Hermione and a pissed-beyond-belief Voldemort were led to _their _room by Professor Tom Riddle who didn't shut his trap once the whole way. Voldemort couldn't stop wondering where the hell his Basilisk had been. So many targets, so little time.

The real Voldemort was silent all the time and Hermione really didn't want to know what curses were flying towards Tom Riddle in Voldemort's head. They were bound to be incredibly creative.

Just before they stopped near the door that led to their rooms, Voldemort snapped at his companions that he had urgent matters to attend to and would be back when he wished, and quickly left Hermione to deal with his moronic version.

He had to make sure his precious pet was alright, after all.

Hermione made a guess that her _partner_ was off to check on his precious Chamber of Secrets. She just hoped that he would retain enough of his sanity - _**if**_ he had any left - to keep his pet inside the Chamber instead of letting it out for a "walk."

Now, she was all alone with another version of Voldemort, who was looking at her as if she were the sun.

Not wanting to look rude, Hermione invited Tom Riddle inside.

xxxxxx

After looking around the room that had only one huge bed, one small sofa and two armchairs, Hermione offered some tea to her still chatting companion.

"Lady Hermione, let me express my ultimate gratitude for letting me stay in your gracious presence," Tom bowed again and smiled at Hermione who kept staring at him in wonder.

"Emm. No problem. The pleasure is all mine," always the polite one, Hermione replied when tea appeared on the small round table.

"How are you today?" Tom asked sincerely.  
_  
Like always when I have Death and Voldemort playing games behind my back_, she thought.

"Wonderful, thank you for asking. And you?" Hermione replied instead of vocalizing her thoughts.

"Thank you, Lady Hermione," Tom was starting to annoy her with his constant Lady, please and bows, but Hermione decided that it was all Voldemort's fault anyway.

"Today, I started my lessons with the first years, explaining to them the value of morality and nobleness. You surely understand how important it must be in our world to value such things."

At that Hermione nodded, pleased with the current version of Voldemort.

"As I understand, you are the Defence of the Dark Arts teacher?"

Voldemort-the-nice, as Hermione referred to him in her head, beamed with pride and nodded.

"Well, um, yes. Your humble servant was graced with the honor of teaching the young minds about the Defence against those horrible, monstrous Arts."

Now Hermione liked him even more. Voldemort and no dark magic? Perfect.

Then, Hermione made the monumental mistake of asking Tom what exactly he taught his students in his classes.

Two minutes later, Hermione Granger understood that she was actually talking to a clone of Umbridge, who believed in Ministry and Ministry only.

Ten minutes later, Hermione wished Tom would just shut up, but he kept going and going on. None of the books that were used in his class were useful, and Hermione knew that from her own experience. Her good manners nearly flew out the window when he started praising the Ministry and talking about how those idiots there knew better.

He even considered normal spells to be dangerous magic and claimed that not only students but the whole magical community should refrain from using them.  
_  
Where is Voldemort?_ Hermione mused, from time to time nodding her head in agreement to whatever this version of definitely-not-Voldemort was babbling about, as she stopped listening to his crap maybe half and hour ago..  
_  
What time is it anyway and where the hell is my Voldemort?_ Hermione closed her eyes in agony. She could not bear to be in the same room with that creep who now was talking about fashion. _Better give me the normal Dark Lord than this shithead,_ Hermione pleaded with all her might.

If, at first, Hermione actually liked the guy, the upgraded version of Voldemort as she'd started to call him, then, at second glance … she was not so sure anymore. Now she just wanted her normal Voldemort back.

Before, Hermione believed Tom to be perfect. He didn't make silly, ten-year-old anagrams of his name. And he was good. Moral. She could just see herself with someone as fine as this.

After all, Voldemort was handsome, a genius and really witty. If you removed his "Voldemortish" evil side, he'd be the perfect man any woman could dream of having.

However, now it seemed that all the pluses came with a bonus point called "The Voldemort. Ultimate Edition." Without his "bad" side, he was a moron. Hermione came to the conclusion after spending some quality one-on-one time with the bootleg copy.

Hermione braced herself and decided that she was ruined anyway and prepared to cast the curse when the doors flew open and a smirking face of none other than Lord Voldemort the Original appeared.

"Did you enjoy yourself, my darling?" Voldemort asked in his mocking, all-mighty Voldemortish tone which made Hermione all giggly with happinness before she got extremely angry.  
_  
So, he knew already what kind of moron his clone was,_ Hermione thought angrily. _And he must have simply forgotten to share the information with her._

Judging by his mocking smirk, Hermione decided she was correct in her assumption that Voldemort went away not only to check on his darling Basilisk, but to simply leave her to suffer alone. Asshole.

xxxxx

They were finally alone (Voldemort just said "Leave" and the clone was gone in a second), and Hermione was prepared to question the Dark Lord when she heard some noise behind their door.

Voldemort had his head pressed into the pillow and was shaking with silent laughter while Hermione had to sit and listen in embarrassment and anger what that other creep was singing from behind the closed door.

_"When I was young, a child with broken heart,_  
_  
I trusted and believed in only dark._  
_  
As time has passed, I knew no love,_  
_  
There was no pure in me, my heart._  
_  
But then some light came through the door-_  
_  
My heart, my very soul were all at war._  
_  
The shadows vanished and escaped,_  
_  
They left my broken soul alive, reshaped._  
_  
Now, I can tell you all of this,_  
_  
As I have reached the heaven's bliss."_

Voldemort was really glad he had listened to his ancestor- it was too much fun to miss, he decided when he heard the Mudblood throw a vase at the door and shout at the creep.

Still shaking with silent laughter, Voldemort was rudely hit by the Mudblood, who now sat on the bed across Voldemort and just glared at him.

Never to miss the opportunity, as they were supposed to be a couple in this world, Voldemort grabbed Granger by her wild hair and smashed his lips to hers.

_Let the fucker sing, I have better things to do,_ the Dark Lord Voldemort decided when the Mudblood's now naked body eagerly responded to his ministrations.

**A/N** Aaand to be continued...yes, with a lemon that you have to wait for...Yay for me!...Crucio! Oooopsii...


End file.
